


Finding Family

by Relevant_Peach



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relevant_Peach/pseuds/Relevant_Peach
Summary: Draco didn't regret leaving his world behind and finding a new one...much.  When unexpected circumstances find him back in the UK, he encounters everything, and everyone he left behind.  In the process of facing up to a terrible mistake, Draco hopes that he can finally find peace.*  *  *  *





	1. You Can't Come Home

The Manor had changed little in four years. Draco wasn’t sure what he expected, exactly, since Mother had completely redone it after…well, after. Despite the updated decor, Draco hated everything about this place, hated hearing the echoes of Aunt Bellatrix’s laugher, hated remembering the nights that he heard Nagini slither past his door, and wondered if this was the night he’d be killed. His panic rose. He couldn’t be here, he had to go. Feeling a trickle of terrified sweat slide down his backbone, Draco turned to leave.

“Draco” his mother’s voice was weaker than it used to be.

“Mother” he hastened to her side, kissed her temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Not terribly, today. Thank you for returning.”

“Of course, Mother. Anything you need.”

“And your…coaches were okay with you leaving?” She still struggled with the uncommon Muggle word. She didn’t understand why Draco left, why he was playing Muggle Hockey, of all things, for a shitty minor league team in Canada. She couldn’t understand that he was just Dray there, that the name on the back of his jersey didn’t engender fear or loathing in those who read it. She couldn’t see that it was just a cool looking tattoo on his wrist there, not a symbol of his weakness, his foolishness.

“Yeah, we aren’t going to make the playoffs anyhow, and they understand family. They know that I need to be here with you.”

“But you’re going back?” After, she meant. After she’s dead, and Draco is alone.

“Yes”

“Draco, this world is your home. This is your heritage, your history.” That’s the problem, he thought, but instead he touched her cheek gently and encouraged her to get some rest.

A house elf appeared, one he didn’t know, but she took his bag and disappeared, presumably to prepare his rooms. In the quiet of the manor, where the ghosts were no less terrifying because they weren’t real, he felt that he may go mad.

He grabbed his hockey bag and his stick and made his way outside, where the Quidditch pitch had been transformed into an Olympic sized rink, magically cooled, regardless of the temperature. It had been a long-distance gift from his mother, a blatant bribe to entice him to come home. “You can still do your sporting here” she’d said. Lacing up his skates, dumping the bucket of pucks onto the ice, skating drills until he was drenched in sweat, this made sense. He could do this. When he skated, he forgot.

It turned out there wasn’t much to do. The house elves took care of Mother, who slept a lot anyway. He took tea in the sunroom with her, he read her poetry, until she she dozed off; the potions she was taking made her groggy most of the time, anyway. Daniel Patterson, the Healer assigned to Narcissa’s care, came each morning. On the first morning, he asked Draco to speak privately.

“How much do you know about your Mother’s condition?” he asked.

“I know that it’s terminal, that you’re managing her pain and comfort levels. I know that it would be…imprudent...to hope for a cure.”

“That’s correct. It’s not often that I have the privilege of meeting someone who is so unemotional, able to see that a peaceful, comfortable death is something valuable when all other options have been exercised. Your Mother is incredibly proud of you, and I can see why.”

“Well, Healer, I’m a Malfoy. I’ve been trained since birth to behave with decorum. I’m afraid if you could see how I was feeling inside you’d be disappointed. I’m devastated I that have to face this, but I appreciate the kind words”

“Well, you might be a Malfoy, son, but you’re also human. I’d be shocked if you weren’t feeling something, under all that decorum. We’ll do everything that we can to make sure that your Mother is comfortable and peaceful. I’m very sorry, Mr Malfoy”

“Thank you. How…” Draco’s voice cracked, for just a moment, before he regained his composure. “How long?”

“Weeks, likely. Your Mother is beginning to weaken. You can expect that as time passes, she’ll sleep more often, as the pain draughts need to be stronger. Eventually, she’ll simply slip into a sleep from which she won’t awaken.”

“You’ve been very helpful, Healer Patterson. I appreciate your time.”

“And I, yours.” The Healer passed Draco a slip of parchment. “This is my private floo. Please call me if you need anything”

He went outside, after the Healer left, and shot slapshots into an empty net until his shoulders ached and the tears on his face were unrecognizable from the sweat.

Later that afternoon, the floo chimed and a familiar face appeared. “News travels quickly, I see” Draco said dryly.

“Darling. The rumours are true!” Pansy looked delighted, and stepped through the grate, looking as lovely as a spring day. Her brown eyes were gleaming, and the green robes she wore were immaculately tailored. As she crossed the floor to embrace him and kiss his cheeks, Draco remembered a million other such times, Pansy crossing a room to greet him, face alight with the latest gossip.

“Pans.” Draco breathed her name into her hair as he held her tightly. “It’s wonderful to see you”

“I’m sure it is, I look incredible.”

Draco laughed. “You do.”

“And how is that disgusting Muggle pastime going?”

“It’s good. I’m on break.”

“You look exceptionally fit, my darling. Except…” she scrutinized his face, her expression sharpening. “Whatever has happened to your nose?”

“Took an elbow to the face during a game. Muggles don’t know ‘episky’”

“That’s deplorable, darling, but it does make you look even more rakish than usual. I’m ashamed to say that I approve”

“Tea?”

“No, darling. Gin.”

A house elf was summoned, and a tray containing cool drinks arrived. They sat in the drawing room, as the sun streamed through the windows, sipping the cocktails in silence for a moment. “Pansy, how is it that you know about gin?”

“We have all sorts of Muggle cocktails at home. Every Tuesday we have a Liquor Potluck. Everyone brings a new sort of drink, and there’s only so much you can do with fire whiskey and butterbeer. We had to branch out.”

“We? Where are you living these days?”

“I share a house with a number of people from our year.”

Draco was surprised. Purebred witches didn’t leave the family home until their marriage, and so for her to have left the Parkinson home suggested something truly shocking. “You don’t live at Winfeather any longer?”

“No darling. You’d know this if you bothered to firecall, or owl.”

“Pans, I’ve told you. I’ve been living like a Muggle for the past four years. It’s difficult to be inconspicuous with an owl, and the hotels I stay in aren’t part of the floo network.”

“Well, you’ve made your choice, haven’t you? I can’t help it if you’re completely behind on the gossip.”

“No, I suppose that’s true” It was a mistake to come home, Draco realized. Too much time had passed, and he didn’t think that he’d be able to bridge the enormous gap that had formed. “I am sorry, Pans. You know I couldn’t stay”

“I know that you had the chance to be happy, and you decided that self-flagellation was more important than your future.”

“Don’t.” Draco knew that his voice sounded shaky, but he needed her to stop, needed to never think about what happened before.

“Alright, darling. We’ll move on. Anyhow, I’ve been sent as an emissary. My housemates and I will forgive you your misgivings if you come to Liquor Potluck tomorrow night at eight”

“I’m not sure.”

“I insist. Draco, you’ve treated your friends poorly, and you know it. Even if you can’t regain the past, even if you don’t speak to us ever again, we deserve the right to properly say goodbye to you.”

“Who will be there?”

“I told you, my housemates. It’s impossible to tell in advance who will show up, but there’s usually a hardcore group who is always there. It’s a very good time, Draco.”

“What should I bring?” Draco knew better than to argue too forcefully. Pansy had extended an olive branch, and if Draco spurned her graciousness, he’d be giving up his friendships forever. Draco already had enough enemies without adding a house full of rabid Slytherins.

“Liquor, darling. Don’t be silly. Also, there’s a bit of quirkiness with the wards. I’ll pop over about 5 of, and bring you in.”

Draco paced the floor of the drawing room, hoping to dispel some of the tension that threatened. He’d already lost his lunch more than once throughout the afternoon, but, since he was prone to doing the same thing before a game, he wasn’t that surprised. Usually, a bout of pre-game nerves gave him a precision focus that ensured he played well. Today, he just felt a lingering queasiness, and his hands shook no less than they had when he woke up. The house elf who seemed to be in charge popped into the room, and, with a serene bow, pressed a calming draught into his hand. It seemed as good an idea as any, so Draco downed the draught and gratefully passed the vial back to the little elf, who disappeared from the room again. Suffused with potion-induced calm, Draco ran a now-steady hand through his hair and straightened his robes. It felt strange to be wearing Wizarding clothing again, but Draco comforted himself by wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a grinning wolf, the mascot of his team back home, under his jumper. Home, he thought, with my teammates. It didn’t matter that he didn’t really have a place of his own in Toronto, instead couch-surfing whenever they weren’t on the road. Home is where your people were, and now, Draco’s people were his team. 

The floo flamed green, and Pansy stepped out. She was wearing a battered t-shirt and a pair of trackies. “Darling. Did I not mention that this is casual? You’re too buttoned up in those robes, Draco. What have you on underneath?” She tugged the clasp of his robe, revealing the jumper and a pair of battered jeans. “Oh that will do perfectly. You look positively edible.” She dumped his robes on the ground, grabbed his hand and threw the floo powder into the flames, yelling “Grimmy!”

Floo travel hadn’t really improved in the years Draco has been absent. He stepped through the grate feeling more dizzy and disoriented than he had in his drawing room. The word ‘Grimmy’ had sparked a vague sense of unease, but Draco passed it off as nerves and floo travel. The living room that he entered was spacious, with squashy couches, and a riot of house colours. The drapery is a rich Gryffindor red, while the carpeting is a bold Ravenclaw blue. The couches are green, Slytherin-coloured, and a number of battered yellow throw cushions and beanbags are scattered around, a nod to Hufflepuff. “Wow” Draco said, his nausea somehow enhanced by the violent eruption of colour.

“It’s a little much.” Pansy said soothingly. “It started as a joke, but it’s gotten a little out of control lately. Hannah’s really got a thing for those fucking cushions. The rest of the house isn’t that bad. Come, we’re all in the kitchen.”

Pansy led him down a dark hall, and Draco swore it felt familiar. They were about to go down some stairs when a familiar voice said “Draco”. Draco turned to find Blaise standing at the other end of the hall.

“Blaise” Draco’s voice sounded croaky, but oh, Merlin, it was so good to see him. Awash in homesickness, Draco was unsure what to do. And then in an instant, Blaise closed the distance between them and wrapped strong arms around Draco, lifting him up in an exuberant hug. Draco returned the hug, blinking back unexpected tears. “I’ve missed you”

“Me too” Blaise’s voice sounded hoarse too, as though he were also awash in emotion. “I’m glad you’re back, Dray” And then, just like that, Draco was glad he was back too, in the arms of his two best friends. They made their way to the kitchen and Draco felt himself begin to relax.

Until, that is, they crossed the threshold into a crowd of people huddled around a blender on the counter. That was when Draco realized that he’d walked into a lion’s den. Literally, if the sea of Gryffindors were an indication. “Guys, Draco’s here. Be nice to him” Pansy said airily, grabbing one of the red plastic cups from the island and stuffing it into his hand. In unison, all of the faces turned to look at him, and Draco could feel heat rising up the back of his neck. This was a mistake, this was a huge mistake. Draco wondered if he could simply flee, but, in a heartbeat, the scrutiny subsided. A few people nodded at him, and the rest simply returned their attention to the blender. Which, it seemed, none of them could figure out how to operate. 

Draco retreated with his drink to a safe-looking corner, hoping to figure out just what the fuck was going on here. It seemed that Blaise and Pansy had somehow become friends with Hannah Abbott. And Neville Longbottom, of all people, who had his hands wrapped around Hannah in a decidedly non-platonic way. He noticed Seamus whats-his-name from Gryffindor, and the guy that was always with him, Dean? And in the other corner, nursing a bottle of Muggle beer, quietly watching him…was Gregory Goyle. When he met Draco’s eye, he raised his bottle in silent tribute, then took a long swallow. Draco raised his own cup and drank, wondering just how this group ended up together.

As the night progressed, more people arrived. The group at the kitchen island finally figured out that the blender needed to be plugged in to work, but didn’t realize that the pitcher needed a lid. The ensuing shower of sticky orange drink covered the kitchen and its occupants. Everyone was in hysterics. Pansy was draped around Seamus and Dean, tears rolling down her cheeks as Dean licked a stripe of orange from her forehead. This unexpected group had an easy-going manner about them, reminding Draco of the after-game parties that had formed with his team. He felt simultaneously excluded and homesick for the Wolves. Although, in fairness, during the off-season, there weren’t many Wolves to find, as most of them had summer jobs that required their attention. Minor hockey paid pitifully, and the landscaping and golf course jobs kept them afloat during the season. Draco himself was a coach, coaxing tiny little helmet-clad toddlers to shakily make their way across the ice, and running drills with future minor leaguers who would someday take his place on his team. 

Draco was interrupted from his musing by an ethereal girl with hair nearly as blonde as his. She’d grown it out, and there were strands of glitter woven into it. “Hello Draco” she said pleasantly. “You looked a little lonely here. Am I interrupting some important thoughts?”

“Luna, hello.” Draco forced a smile on his face. “It’s been a long time since I saw you”

“Yes, I think the last time we spoke I was in your basement. I got your owl though, afterwards. Thank you for sending it. And thank you for taking such good care of me while I was staying with you”

Draco almost laughed. Only Luna would refer to being held hostage in his family’s dungeon as ‘staying with him’. “Are you well, Luna?”

“Oh yes. I’ve taken over editorial duties for the Quibbler. It’s very rewarding. You’d be shocked how few people know about the dangers of Nargles.”

“I can imagine.”

“And you’re in Canada now? I hear that they don’t have Wrackspurts there. It must be lovely.”

Draco had forgotten how wrong-footed a conversation with Lovegood could leave someone feeling. “Yes, well, I’ve never seen one there.”

“Oh that’s wonderful Draco. I’m so glad you’re home though. There’s a lot of unfinished business here for you”

Draco froze. “What do you mean?”

“Well when you went to Canada, you left your heart here, didn’t you?” Luna smiled gently at him. “Excuse me, Draco, I need to go dance” The girl disappeared, her hips already swaying to music that likely only existed in her own head.

The front door banged above them, followed by an unearthly screeching noise. It seemed that someone in the house was upset about “Filthy blood traitors bringing disgusting Mudbloods into her sacred house” Draco was alarmed. The rest of the occupants of the kitchen seemed to think that this was no less hilarious than the orange explosion. 

From the hallway, Draco could hear a disgruntled, but slightly familiar voice lamenting “…but why does she only bloody wake up when I come in? It’s like the old bint smells me or something.” And then, Draco’s heart stuttered a moment, when three very familiar faces appeared in the kitchen doorway.

A roar of approval rang through the kitchen as Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley entered. They were blocking the exit, Draco realized. He was trapped in the kitchen with two-thirds of the Golden Trio, and their little sister. Draco sunk further into the corner, hoping that he would evade notice. The three new arrivals were hugged and presented with cups of the orange disaster. Then, Weasley’s eyes made their way into the corner and narrowed.

“What the fuck is Malfoy doing here?” he demanded.

What the fuck was Malfoy doing here, Draco wondered frantically, now fully terrified that he wouldn’t be going home alive tonight. He’d made a desperate fuck up of his life, true, but Draco really liked being alive. He hadn’t escaped murder by an insane megalomaniac to die at the hands of a Weasley. 

“Relax, Ronald. I invited him. He’s drinking gin, and behaving himself nicely. Wouldn’t you like to drink gin and behave nicely as well?” Pansy was grinning at Weasley, but the look in her eyes was a little feral. Draco had seen that look before, once, as children at the Manor, when a peacock had taken her sandwich. Draco had had a terrible time explaining to his Father why they had one fewer peacock. 

Obviously Ron had seen that look before as well, because he backed down, muttering “Well, he’s got some fucking nerve showing his face here.”

“I apologize” Draco said quietly. “I didn’t realize, Pansy didn’t say. I’ll be going.”

“You won’t” Pansy’s voice was hard. “You’ll stay and you’ll drink your fucking gin, and Ron will have some fucking gin too, and we’ll have a good time, because this is Liquor fucking Potluck, and it only has one rule.”

“Get fucked up?” Seamus said hopefully.

“Two rules then. Get fucked up, and act like a fucking family. Am I understood?” Pansy’s voice got very quiet on the last sentence, and Draco nearly wet his pants. He nodded. Ron nodded as well. Seamus grinned gleefully and topped up everyone’s drinks.

“What did you bring to drink, Draco?” Blaise asked, always the peacemaker.

“Direct from Canada, a case of their finest export” Draco pulled a box from his pocket and with a quick wave of his wand, enlarged it. He set the case of beer onto the counter and patted it with a fond smile. He’d become enamoured of the stronger beer in Canada, and was hopeful that this would buy him a few moments of peace, enough time to sneak back upstairs to the floo and escape. The She-Weasel was giving him hateful glares across the kitchen. Draco fearfully remembered her Bat-Bogey hex, and tensed. Honestly though, she’d won. It wasn’t as though she had any right to be upset with him.

“I thought maple syrup was their finest export” Dean mused.

“This gets you much drunker.” Draco assured him.

Soon, the case had been opened, and everyone was happily getting pissed again. Draco started edging towards the doorway, but his progress was arrested by a bushy-haired witch with fire in her eyes.

“Draco” she said levelly.

“Hermione” he replied back.

“I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I’m also surprised. I was brought here under false pretences” he admitted. “If I’d known I’d make people uncomfortable, I never would have come. To be honest, it never occurred to me that Pansy would be living here with such a…diverse group”

“Yes, our blood purity status alone must be making you twitchy”

Draco felt his face fall before he hastily erected the mask that he’d been taught before he’d emerged from toddlerhood. He attempted to produce a decent sneer, only to find that he couldn’t. He was exhausted, and he just wanted to leave.

Hermione’s face softened a bit. “Draco, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s just a surprise to see you here. After the way you left, I just didn’t expect to see you in Harry’s kitchen.”

Draco had heard the term ‘his blood ran cold’ before, but had never experienced it before. At Hermione’s words, though, it was as if the blood running through his veins had turned to ice. His belly flopped menacingly. “This is Harry’s house?” he asked quietly. At Hermione’s nod he felt hot and cold and as though he might sick up on Hermione’s shoes. “Oh Merlin, I’ll kill Pansy. I have to get out of here”

“You didn’t know”

“Of course I didn’t know!” Draco was feeling frantic. He had to leave, he would just push Hermione over and run upstairs and dive into the floo and go home. Or maybe he’d just apparate back to Canada right now. He was pretty sure there were laws preventing it, and he’d probably end up in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean somewhere, but anything would be preferable to finding himself in Harry fucking Potter’s fucking kitchen.

“Oh Draco.” Hermione looked pained. “I don’t know what happened between you, but…Harry was shattered when you left. It was really terrible for a long time. You have no idea how much you hurt him.”

Draco felt his heart stutter. “I…I didn’t…” he stammered for a moment, feeling completely wrong footed. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe it’s good that you’re here tonight. Maybe you two can put things to rest. Harry just wanted some answers. He hasn’t really been the same since”

“Well, that makes two of us” Draco muttered.

Hermione’s eyes were kind. “I hope that you both can find some peace, then.”

Well, Draco thought, that would have to wait for another time, because he was getting the fuck out of this madhouse. He gave her a tight smile, and when she moved aside, he continued moving towards the kitchen door. Only to walk smack into Harry Potter. He froze, and Harry did the same. “Draco?” his voice was tiny, disbelieving.

“Harry.” Ugh, why had Draco called him Harry? In a situation like, this, where all he wanted was to preserve some semblance of his dignity, the correct address was 'Potter'.

“What are you doing here?”

“It was a mistake. I was just leaving.” Draco knew he sounded like a prat, but all he wanted was to get out of this place and drink so much that he forgot that this night had ever happened. And hex Pansy until that bitch cried.

Something in Harry’s face hardened then. His jaw twitched and his hands clenched. “Don’t leave on my account, Draco. I don’t give a fuck what you do” He darted around Draco and into the kitchen. “Why don’t I have a drink?” he growled. The rest of the kitchen roared its approval, and a beer and a cup of the disgusting orange stuff was placed into his hands. 

Later, Draco would ask himself why he didn’t just storm away then. But then again, when had he ever been able to walk away from Harry Potter and his fucking cheekiness? He downed the contents of his cup and grabbed a beer from the case on the island. 

The happenings of the night got a little more interesting after that point. Draco drank, quite a bit, actually. And Harry got absolutely pissed. In surreal flashes, Draco witnessed Harry doing body shots off of Longbottom, to Hannah’s intoxicated delight. He observed a procedure that required a funnel and a handstand. And through it all, those accusing green eyes met his over the rim of stupid red plastic cups. Draco prided himself on having developed an impressive alcohol tolerance over his four years playing hockey. Canadian guys were excellent drinkers, it seemed, and Draco had learned the hard way that a scrawny British boy needed to keep up, or he’d find himself with one less eyebrow the following morning.

So it was no surprise that as the night progressed, it was him, Dean Thomas, Cho Chang (real dark horse, that girl) and Harry Potter still perched on stools around the island, while the rest of the party had left or passed out. Harry still hadn’t spoken directly to Draco since their awkward encounter when Harry had come home, but Dean and Cho were compensating for the tension by being extra friendly. Draco was inventing a new drink with spiced rum and some Muggle lemon soda. It was delicious, even if the strength of the mix resulted in Cho sicking into a plant and being taken to bed by a wobbly Dean.

And that’s how it transpired that Harry and Draco were left alone in the kitchen. Draco had long ago gotten past the feeling of utter wrongness that he was in Harry’s home, and had resigned himself to drinking until his heart stopped aching so much. It hadn’t happened yet; his heart was still clunking painfully in his chest every time Harry pushed his messy hair out of his eyes, but Draco felt that a few more drinks and it would happen.

They drank in silence for a while until Harry finally waved his cup at Draco. “Good, this” he muttered.

“Thanks”

The silence stretched endlessly, Draco steadily drinking, aware of Harry’s gaze on his mouth as he did so. As the time passed and the tension increased, Harry finally spoke again. “You’re a bastard, you know?” His tone was mild, but he didn’t meet Draco’s eyes.

“Yes” Draco agreed miserably.

“You broke me”

Draco didn’t respond. He’d broken himself as well.

“I mean it Draco. I just…I don’t understand why.” His voice broke a little on the last syllable, drawing it out in a shaky tremor. 

“It’s complicated”

“You ruined me for anyone else, and you want to tell me it’s complicated? Fuck you, Draco”

“What do you mean, ruined you for anyone else? What about Ginerva?”

“Ginny? Marlin, Draco, are you thick? You know I’m gay. Why in the name of Circe’s saggy left tit would I end up with Ginny?”

“But…” Draco was truly wrong-footed now, and he wondered if maybe he were drunker than he thought. “No, Harry. You must have ended up with Ginny”

“I was here. I assure you I didn’t end up with Ginny fucking Weasley. Not only is she a girl but she’s also like my sister. Where are you getting this idea?”

“Oh Harry. Oh no. Oh no no…” Draco was babbling now, his panic rising. “Please tell me that this is your revenge, that you’re saying this to fuck with me. I know I deserve it but please Harry, please tell me that you’ve been happy this whole time. Because if this wasn’t worth it, why did I-”

Harry opened his mouth, as though he was about to answer Draco, but instead, he simply passed out.


	2. Draco's Decision

Draco decided to take stock. He was, unexpectedly, in the home of one Harry James Potter. He was slightly drunk. He’d been threatened by Granger, kind of. He’d learned that his friends were now apparently best friends with a herd of Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff. And somehow, his incredible sacrifice, his one act of penance to make up for his misdoings, had gone to shit and the bloody fool wasn’t happily in the arms of Ginerva Weasley. And, the fool in question had abruptly passed out into his cup of excellent rum-soda before explaining just how everything had gotten so fucked up.

It seemed that taking stock didn’t provide Draco with any immediate solutions. Well, regardless of how he was going to fix everything, leaving Harry in a pool of sticky beverage wasn’t going to solve anything. With a sigh, Draco went to where Harry was snoring into the puddle and lifted his head. He summoned a flannel, and washed the disgusting mixture from Harry’s face. If he paused for a moment to smell the crook of his neck, where Harry most smelled of vanilla, and sunshine, and some sort of innate Harry-ness…well, nobody was watching, were they? Draco managed, just barely, to avoid licking that selfsame spot, and instead picked up the snoring Wizard. 

Harry was just as small as he’d been four years ago. Draco easily carried him, bridal-style up the stairs and paused. He didn’t know where his room was. Everyone who lived here was, presumably, passed out or sicking up into a plant. Well, Draco thought, there was a perfectly good couch in the sitting room. He laid Harry out on the sofa and stopped to consider his next move. He could leave him here, of course, cover him with a blanket and get home and forget that this terrible night had ever happened.

But then he’d never know. Draco had managed to stay away for the past four years, because he’d kept himself going with thoughts of Harry happily with his she-Weasel. It seemed that somehow everything had gotten cocked up. Draco wasn’t a brave man, and he was very, very seldom an honourable one. If his sacrifice hadn’t worked, if he’d left Harry here sad, and thin and broken somehow, well, Draco was going to fucking well find out how this had happened.

With a gusty sigh, Draco sat on the floor next to the couch. He waved his wand and whispered “Accio Harry’s blanket” and before long a faded quilt came zooming down the stairs. Resolving himself to a very long, very confusing night, Draco tucked the quilt around Harry’s thin shoulders and settled himself on the floor beside the only person that he’d ever loved.

Someone was groaning. Groaning and swallowing repeatedly. Draco had been the sober one at enough parties to recognize that gutteral swallowing noise for what it was: a harbinger of vast amounts of vomit. “Accio bucket” he cried in alarm. The bucket arrived, mostly in time to catch the copious amounts of sick that poured from Harry. Draco frantically vanished it, grateful that at least he was back in the Wizarding world, and he didn’t have to clean it from the carpet by hand like he did in Toronto. There was a plastic cup left on the table, and so he quickly scourgified it, spelling it full of water, and holding Harry’s head up to drink. “Here, drink a little, Harry, you’ll feel better”. Harry obediently drank a few swallows, but turned his head away before Draco could get much into him. He summoned another flannel, and cast a quick augumenti, washing Harry’s face, and smoothing the sweaty hair back from Harry’s forehead. “You’re okay, Harry, I’ve got you”

He made his way to the potions cabinet, finding a hangover remedy and returning to the sitting room. Harry had been sick again, and Draco vanished it quickly, casting a quick mouth-freshening charm. “Here, drink this” he whispered, again holding Harry’s head up and uncorking the potion. Harry took a few swallows before shaking his head. “Can’t” he murmured. “Going to sick again”

“It’s okay, we’ll wait for it to make you feel a little better” Again, Draco wiped Harry’s face. Harry looked so young while asleep. Draco longed to take him in his arms. He smoothed a hand down Harry’s back.

“Don’t…” Harry said thickly. “Don’t be nice to me. Breaks my heart”

“I’m sorry” Draco murmured, removing his hand and standing up. Perhaps it was better for him to just leave. He’d obviously caused enough damage, to Harry’s heart, and, it seemed, his liver.

“Draco” Harry’s voice caused him to still again.

“What?”

“Don’t go either”

“Okay” Draco resumed his vigil, remembering another night of whispering to one another in the dark. Dawn broke, finally, and Draco stretched. He hadn’t slept; simply sat on the uncomfortable floor, kept company by his memories, and the quelling realization that something had gone terribly, desperately wrong. 

“Draco?”

“Harry. Drink this” Draco held up his head and gave him the rest of the hangover potion. “Just lay still, you’ll feel better in a moment”

“I think I got sick”

“I think you’re right”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really plan for you to see me all disgusting and pathetic”

“I’m glad to have seen you at all. Harry-“

“Draco. I don’t suppose we can just forget everything? Pretend that you didn’t come here last night, pretend that I wasn’t a mess? Shake hands and part as…well not friends, but with some sort of dignity?”

“If that’s what you really want, it’s the least I could do for you”

“I don’t know what I want, Draco”

“Maybe you’d better tell me what happened”

“But you know what happened. We slept together. We made promises to one another. We had hope for a future. Then you left, and I tried to owl you, but they kept coming back. And I talked to your Mother, and she said you’d left the continent. That’s all”

“But Harry, that doesn’t make any sense.” Draco felt his frustration rising. “This isn’t how it was supposed to end at all”

“Of course not. It was supposed to end with a beginning. We were supposed to see what happened next. But I was a fool, I suppose, and you didn’t care about me at all”

“Oh Harry, no. That’s what you thought? But didn’t Andromeda tell you?”

“Draco, I never thought you were a coward, but how dare you? At least be honest about this. You just left. Andromeda didn’t say a thing. She didn’t know anything.” Harry’s voice wasn’t angry, just desolate.

“No. No” Draco insisted.

“This is mad. We’re never going to be able to see things the same way. If you insist on believing that you didn’t take the coward’s way out, I don’t really think we have much to talk about”

“Harry. I know that you’re angry, and so hurt. And I caused that hurt, and I don’t deserve anything from you. And yes, I was a fucking coward, just like fucking always. But could you let me tell you what happened from my perspective? Just so that I can say I tried?”

“Maybe. But tea first”

They made their way to the kitchen, which showed signs of the party the night before. Orange smears coated every surface, cups and bottles were everywhere, and there was an angry looking scorch mark over the hob where someone had tried to cook something. Harry groaned. “Merlin, I’ll have to redecorate again. At least it’s better than last time”

Draco quickly made tea, and handed Harry a cup. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be interrupted?”

Harry regarded him for a moment, seeming to weigh up the look in Draco’s eyes. Finally he sighed. “My bedroom, I suppose” They tiptoed upstairs to a large room. Posters of Muggle girls on motorbikes were plastered on the walls. Draco raised an eyebrow. “This was my godfather’s room. I couldn’t stay in my room, after. And then I couldn’t bear to take those down when I moved in here.” For a moment, Harry’s eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears before he blinked hard. “Okay, Draco. If you insist, you can tell me whatever you need to…but I can’t imagine that anything you say will make a difference”

“No, I can’t imagine that it will either. But I have to try, even if it’s just to let you know that…well…I don’t know…”

*July 1998*

“Malfoy, wait!” Draco was leaving the Ministry of Magic at a hefty pace, terrified that if he lingered too long that someone would change their mind, and he’d be placed in Azkaban along with his Father. He turned at the sound of his name, only to find Potter, running up behind him, clutching something in his outstretched hand.

“Potter” Draco was too badly battered to sneer at him like usual. Also, the git had just testified on his and his mother’s behalf.

“Here. I kept it safe for you” It was Draco’s wand. He gasped, barely believing it. His hand, as he reached for it, trembled. Gripping it, he felt the familiar, exhilarating surge of his magic. It was like coming home, and Draco’s eyes filled with tears before he blinked them back.

“T-Thank you. For this, and for testifying for me”

“It was the right thing to do” Harry’s voice was a little gruff. It had deepened over the past year. Coupled with the artfully scruffy stubble he was carrying, Harry had grown into a man. Draco felt a familiar surge of envy. What must it be like to be Potter?

“You didn’t have to, though. You’ve already done enough for everyone. Thank you for that too, I suppose. Really though, why did you do this for me?”

Harry sighed, pushed his fringe out of his eyes. His gaze met Draco’s for a moment, then he bit his lip and looked away. “Because, Draco. I’m so fucking tired of this war, and losing so many people. It’s been such a fucking waste. You deserve more than to rot away in Azkaban. I reckon that you were born into your role the same way I was”

Draco felt his head tilt to one side. “But you hated me”

Harry laughed. “I did, for a while. But then I nearly killed you in a bathroom while Moaning Myrtle watched. It felt petty to keep hating you for creating ‘Potter Stinks’ badges after that.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry about that too.”

“We could spend all day apologizing for things that happened. Or, we could start over. Maybe have a drink?”

“A drink?” Draco was thunderstruck.

“Or not. Honestly, Malfoy, I just thought it would be nice. It’s no big deal.”

“No, no, I’d like to. I just can’t figure out why you’d want to be nice to me.”

“Because I wasn’t nice to you before. And maybe I’d like to know the Draco who’d be nice to me back.”

“Eloquent as always” Draco grinned. “No time like the present.”

“Alright” Harry looked pleased. They apparated to the Leaky, and it was…nice. Awkward as hell, of course. But Harry was funny. And yes, he was still the honourable Gryffindor who couldn’t be catty if his life depended on it. But he was smarter than he’d seemed. And, despite everything, he was so fucking hopeful. As though this fresh start were all that was needed for the Wizarding World to put aside old grudges and start anew. Draco supposed that dying and coming back to life would do that to a bloke. But somehow, listening to Harry talk about his hopes for the future, the ale sloshing out of his pint glass as he gestured, Draco could see why the world followed his lead. He wasn’t arrogant, as Draco had once thought. In fact, when people came and gushed over him, he turned crimson and became nearly inarticulate. But he had a special kind of magnetism, and Draco felt that, even though he personally didn’t have any hope for the future, he might be able to borrow some of Harry’s to tide him over.

The pint had been followed by more, on other days, and then they met at a local Quidditch pitch for a seeker’s game. Watching Harry’s joyful face as he flew made something unclench in Draco’s chest. He’d always watched Harry, but now, as his past jealousies dwindled away, Draco felt attraction unfurl in his belly. They landed, exhausted and lay catching their breath on the pitch. Harry had won three games, Draco two. “One more. Let me tie things up” Draco begged, rolling onto his side to face Harry.

Harry laughed. “I’m knackered. You’ll have to be way more persuasive than that pathetic display of begging to get me to do what you want”

“And how could I persuade you?” Draco didn’t mean for the teasing question to come out sounding suggestive, but once it was out there, he felt bold for a moment, and didn’t retract it.

“I’m not sure” Harry was staring at his mouth. His eyes flitted up to meet Draco’s before returning to their original target. Curious, Draco let his tongue flit out and wet his lower lip. Harry’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating. He stifled a groan. Emboldened, Draco captured his lower lip in his teeth and widened his own eyes.

“You’re sure you can’t think of anything you want?” Draco whispered. 

“Draco” Harry’s voice sounded strained.

“Because I’m pretty sure you’ll find that I can be very…persuasive” 

Harry’s brow crinkled for a moment, considering. His lips parted, and suddenly, there was a fire in his eyes. “Fuck it” he declared, before launching himself at Draco and kissing him.

Draco felt his arms encircle Harry, one of his hands carding through his hair. It was incredibly soft. Harry’s tongue was in his mouth, and without thinking, Draco sucked it. Harry’s groan went straight to Draco’s cock, and he was instantly hard, straining against his tight Quidditch pants. He pulled Harry closer, and ground his erection into Harry’s thigh.

“Merlin” Harry gasped into his mouth, and before Draco knew what was happening, Harry’s hand was on his cock, and the pressure there, along with his tongue in Draco’s mouth made Draco whimper.

Draco’s hand stole down Harry’s back, squeezing his arse firmly, one finger pressing inquiringly into the cleft of his cheeks. “Draco” Harry breathed, and the sound of his name on Harry’s lips made Draco’s cock twitch.

“I want to suck you” Draco whispered into Harry’s mouth. “I want to taste you” Harry’s answering gasp was all the invitation he needed. Draco fumbled with Harry’s flies, and when Harry’s cock sprang free from his pants, Draco wanted to weep. “So beautiful, Harry. Can I?”

“Please, oh Merlin, please, I think I’ll die if you don’t” Harry whimpered. Draco wasted no time getting his mouth onto Harry’s cock, and when he licked the precome that was already dripping from Harry’s slit, Draco himself nearly came.

“You taste so fucking delicious, Harry. I can’t wait for you to come down my throat” Draco muttered around Harry’s cock. He sucked Harry completely, opening his throat, while his hand cupped Harry’s balls. Harry was panting now, his cock so hard that Draco knew he wouldn’t last long. Good, he thought. His finger stole below Harry’s balls, pressing firmly until he found what he was looking for, and Harry jerked. Redoubling his efforts, Draco sucked harder, making sure his teeth were sheathed by his lips.

“Draco, I’m going to come” Harry gasped. Draco hummed appreciatively, and with a cry, Harry unloaded his seed into Draco’s mouth. Draco swallowed, and swallowed, and gave one last gentle lick to the head of Harry’s cock before pulling off. 

“Oh Merlin, Draco. That was…”

“Pretty fucking spectacular” Draco supplied. Harry was laying boneless and sated, but mustered up the energy to life his head and kiss Draco deeply. 

“Oh god, I can taste myself in your mouth. That’s so fucking hot, Draco” Harry’s hands were fumbling with Draco’s flies now, and when he freed Draco’s cock, Harry let out a groan that was positively delicious. Draco felt his toes curl. Then Harry’s hand was circling his cock, and he knew exactly how to stroke him. Draco couldn’t think after that, his entire world was Harry’s warm hands, and the way his thumb swiped across the head of Draco’s cock. It was embarrassing how quickly Draco came, his semen covering Harry’s hand and Draco’s belly. 

Bringing his hand to his mouth, Harry slowly licked Draco’s come from each of his fingers. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look, doing that?” Draco growled. Harry smiled a kittenish little smirk, popping his index finger into his mouth, his eyes closing halfway as he savoured Draco’s essence.

After that, it was a series of stolen moments, Draco stealing into Harry’s house at Grimmauld Place late at night, climbing the stairs to his room and fucking him into the mattress. Frantic, filthy letters sent by owl each time one of them had a spare second. For three weeks, they spent as much time together as they could, kissing, talking, making love. Draco had never felt more happy, and more hopeful. 

One morning, when they lay lazily in Harry’s bed, Harry grabbed Draco’s hand. “So how are we going to start telling people about us?” he asked conversationally.

“I’m not sure” Draco said carefully. “I wasn’t sure you were going to want to”

Harry’s smile was like a sunrise, so beautiful and full of hope, and so affectionate. “Oh, Draco.”

Draco’s joy blossomed up so quickly that he felt dizzy. Words escaped him, and he dove onto Harry, kissing him until they were both breathless.

“Come, meet my Godson today” Harry suggested. “He’s your cousin, you know”

“Who, Theodore Tonks?” 

“Yes, he lives with Andromeda right now, but I spend a lot of time with him. He’s lovely, and it would be nice for you to see your Aunt, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not sure” Draco said thoughtfully. “I’ve never met her. I’m sure you know that she and my Mother’s family had a falling out when Andromeda married Ted Tonks”

“Well, no time like the present. Will you go with me?”

Draco was nervous, but also secretly delighted that Harry wanted to acknowledge their relationship. Besides, if Andromeda loved Harry, she was obviously nice, right? Draco didn’t really know anything about babies, but he would learn, for Harry. A tiny bubble of excitement formed in Draco’s chest.

Andromeda and Teddy lived in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of a Wizarding Village. They apparated there hand in hand, and walked the short distance to the cottage. Harry threw the door open joyfully, calling “Andy? I’ve brought a guest”

Draco nearly had a heart attack when Bellatrix Lestrange rounded the corner. His breath quickened, and then his brain finally kicked in and he realized that this wasn’t Bellatrix at all. She didn’t look mad, for one thing, and she was shorter, rounder than Bella had been. She hugged Harry firmly before extending her hand to Draco. “Well hello there” she said calmly. 

Draco kissed her knuckles politely. “Hello Aunt Andromeda” he said. “It’s very nice to finally meet you”

“You look so like your Mother” she said quietly. “When you were young, you favoured your father, but I can see, you’re a Black after all”

“Thank you” Draco replied. “I didn’t realize that you’d ever seen me as a child”

“Once” Andromeda said. “I ran into your parents, and you, in Diagon Alley.” She didn’t say anything else, and Draco suspected that the meeting hadn’t gone well.

“Where’s Teddy?” Harry asked eagerly.

“He should be up from his nap shortly. Shall I make tea?” Without waiting for an answer, she swept from the room, and Harry and Draco made themselves comfortable on the sofa. Harry squeezed his hand and snuggled against Draco. When Andromeda returned with a tea tray, she paused for a moment, eyeing their closeness with her sharp, dark eyes. “Well, this is unexpected” she remarked.

“It’s still very new, Andy” Harry said with a soft smile. “You’re actually the first person we’ve told. It’s going to be a bit of a surprise. Draco and I weren’t exactly friendly during school”

“And yet, you seem to be very close now” she said with a cool smile.

Just then, a little wail came from a bedroom above them. “Oh good! Teddy’s awake!” Harry cried. “I’ll just go get him” He took off at a run, and Draco could hear him chattering away to the baby. 

While he was gone, Draco tried to think of something to say, and eventually settled on “Your gardens here are lovely. Do you enjoy horticulture?”

“Yes” Andromeda said quietly. “My mother, your grandmother taught us all to love growing things”

“Yes, Mother’s gardens are also very beautiful.” Draco replied awkwardly. “I hadn’t realized that it was something that Grandmother had encouraged.”

“Yes, well, Cissy took to gardening very well. Bella, on the other hand…didn’t enjoy the hobby”

“Yes, Aunt Bellatrix seemed to enjoy other pastimes” Draco said carefully. Torture, for one, his mind supplied helpfully.

Fortunately, Harry returned with a sleepy-looking baby, who had an untidy mop of cerulean coloured hair. “Draco, meet Teddy Lupin”

“Hello, little cousin” Draco said to the baby. Teddy regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then his face screwed up into an enormous toothless grin, and he held his arms out to Draco. Draco shuffled him awkwardly, having never held a baby before, but Harry looked delighted. Andromeda’s face revealed nothing.

The visit passed uneventfully, and Harry and Draco left. Draco had agreed to take his Mother to a restaurant she thought looked charming that evening, and he and Harry agreed to meet later that evening. “I’ll come to you at bedtime” Draco promised, with a lingering kiss that promised more. He apparated home, and prepared for dinner. He was nearly finished getting ready when a tapping at his window revealed an unfamiliar owl. Opening the window to allow the owl in, Draco cast a few revealing spells to ensure that the owl wasn’t carrying any hexes or Dark Spells. Although the wards at Malfoy manor were secure, Draco had learned the hard way to be suspicious of unfamiliar owls. The scan revealed nothing, and Draco untied the letter from the owl’s outstretched leg. It stood watching him solemnly, and Draco assumed that it was waiting for a reply. He unfolded the letter and read:

Draco,

Please return to my home immediately upon receipt of this letter. I need to speak to you regarding something of utmost urgency.

Andromeda

Concerned that something was amiss with Harry or the baby, Draco dismissed the owl without a reply, told his Mother that he’d return shortly, and apparated back to the Tonks Cottage. He didn’t expect that his Aunt’s floo was open to Malfoy Manor. Feeling a sense of trepidation, Draco politely knocked on the door.

Andromeda answered immediately. “Draco, please come in”

Draco entered, feeling ill at ease. Whatever tentative warmth Andromeda had displayed while Harry was present was absent now.

“Aunt. Is something wrong?”

“Please sit”

Draco perched uneasily on the couch. The baby, who had been snuggled in his Grandmother’s arms, reached for Draco, but when he moved to pick him up, Andromeda said “No. I prefer not”

“As you wish” That was when Draco realized that he wasn’t here on a social visit.

“Draco, I must ask you what your intentions are towards Harry”

“Really, Aunt? I would have thought that I made that quite clear earlier. I’m very fond of Harry, and I am interested in pursuing a relationship with him”

“My dear, I’m certain that you understand why that won’t work”

“I’m not sure I do. Please enlighten me” Draco kept a veneer of politeness in his tone. For all that Andromeda had rebuked the Black family name, she still was able to maintain the indirect, biting tones of a Pureblooded woman. Draco’s instinct was on high alert. This conversation had very high stakes indeed.

“Well, you must realize that society would never support someone of your…background being seen with someone of Harry’s notoriety. He is under enormous pressure to provide stability to our world”

“Harry hasn’t mentioned that he feels any obligation to provide the stability you speak of, Aunt. I would think that he has done more than his duty to our society”

“Quite” Andromeda’s thin lips quirked into a small rictus that might be mistaken for a smile, if Draco hadn’t grown up in a house with very similar lips making very similar shapes. “I’m sure you know that he’s betrothed to Ginerva Weasley?”

Draco felt his stomach bottom out, and knew that he had paled. “I wasn’t aware of that, Aunt. It seems that Harry doesn’t seem to be aware of it either”

“Harry has been under enormous strain, Draconus. It is to be expected that he might be prone to certain…descrete dalliances, but surely you don’t expect that he would seriously pursue something with you? A former Death Eater? A Malfoy? I don’t have to tell you that your family’s reputation makes a relationship with Harry…unsuitable.”

“Forgive me, Aunt, but I’m not certain I understand why this is your concern? And why wouldn’t you voice those concerns to Harry, not me?”

“Harry is a lovely boy. He is exceedingly loyal, and is incapable of hurting someone’s feelings. It’s obvious that he wouldn’t feel comfortable telling you that your…friendship isn’t anything serious”

“And why is it your responsibility to set me right?” Draco’s voice was shaking, damn it all. He tried to take a deep breath without revealing to Andromeda that he was doing so.

“Draconus, please be reasonable. I don’t mean you any harm” the tone of her voice suggested otherwise. “but I care a great deal for Harry, and he is to be responsible for Teddy if anything should happen to me. Surely you understand that this…fling cannot continue. Harry has been promised to Ginerva since she was eleven years old. This is his chance for the family he’s always wanted. Why would you stand in his way?”

“I suppose because I wasn’t aware that I was in his way” Draco replied. “It does seem surprising that Harry wouldn’t have mentioned it to me”

“Well obviously he doesn’t want to hurt you Draconus. But you can’t give him the family he’s always longed for. Surely you see that you don’t belong?”

Her words hurt Draco terribly. He tried to keep his voice still and even, but he could tell that it sounded young, fragile. “Well, Aunt, I appreciate your opinions. How kind of you to look out for your family” He did everything he could to infuse a sneer into the statement, but it fell flat.

“I am looking out for my family” Andromeda snapped. “Don’t forget, Draco, the Black family, your family, wanted nothing to do with me when I became a Blood Traitor. Harry is my family. And I will keep him safe at any cost.” She leaned in very close to Draco’s face, and her black eyes were so devoid of warmth that Draco shuddered. “You might recall that my little sister Bella had a rather creative approach to protecting her interests. You should know that I taught her many of the things she knew”

"I'm not frightened"

"Oh no? How well do you think your little...relationship with Harry would survive if he knew that I was preventing him from seeing Teddy because of you? I'm sure that he'd stand up for you, at first. But would you really be able to survive his resentment of you? Robbing him of his dreams like that?"

Draco didn’t recall what, if anything, he said to Andromeda before leaving, apparating home and taking his Mother to the restaurant. He was in a daze, politely responding to his Mother’s comments, choosing a drink, and what he wanted to eat.

“Well, my Dragon, it’s lovely to spend some time with you.” his Mother said.

“Yes, Mother”

“I’ve been speaking with the Greengrass family” his Mother said conversationally.

“Oh?” Draco was only half-listening, the conversation with Andromeda replaying itself over and over.

“We’ve been arranging for your betrothal to Andromeda”

Draco felt sick. “Mother, I’m not interested in marrying, not now”

“Draconus, you know that this is your duty to the family. You must marry, produce an Heir, continue the line. This has never been up for discussion”

“But Mother, I’m not a child. You can’t make decisions for me as though I were”

“You’ve had time to find a suitable wife on your own, Draco. I don’t have to tell you that a great deal is at stake. You’re a man now, and it’s time for you to meet the responsibilities of your family. You’re a Malfoy, my Dragon, and it has never before been so important for you to marry well, marry respectably.”

“Mother” Draco sighed, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. She had always been a comforting presence, soothing like a cool sip of water. Narcissa had always understood Draco, even if she often still forced him to do things he didn’t want. When he’d been forced to take the Mark, she’d held him as he sobbed, shed tears of her own. He didn’t want to let her down, didn’t want to let the family down. But he also didn’t want to marry Astoria Greengrass. “Was it all worth nothing?”

“What do you mean, darling?”

“I thought that things had changed. Voldemort has died. We’re on the precipice of a new world. Why, then, do we need to uphold the tired old traditions that led us to destruction in the first place?”

“Marrying a lovely, beautiful witch will hardly doom our society to ruin. I do hate when you’re dramatic”

“But marrying against my will, to someone I don’t love, who I’m not attracted to, it just seems wrong, Mother. Doesn’t my happiness mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does. And I believe that you’ll find happiness with Miss Greengrass, just as I did with your Father”

Draco thought for a moment about all of the possible things he could say to this. That if his parents’ marriage was an endorsement for happiness, he’d rather be miserable. That his Mother didn’t know Draco at all. That Draco was so deeply in love with Harry Potter that he’d surely die without him. That Draco had lost so much, his dignity, his sense of self, that he deserved to have something of his own. That he’d already been enslaved once and didn’t fancy giving up his autonomy again. But then, he looked at the set of his Mother’s jaw and he remembered.

When Draco had been nine, his father had brought home a tiny crup for Draco, who had immediately fell in love with the creature. He’d named her Tinny, after his favourite house elf. Tinny had been Draco’s nursemaid, and once, after Draco had run to Tinny to escape his Father’s punishment, she’d disappeared, and Draco had never seen her again. The Crup version of Tinny, however, was truly lovely, and she yapped, and gamboled around Draco’s ankles, and pulled off one of his socks with a tiny adorable growl. She’d been in the house for about a week when Narcissa had requested that Draco cease playing with her to practice his cello. When Draco had argued, Narcissa had viewed him, with a set jaw, and eyes that were like two pools of frozen water. She summoned a house elf, commanded him to dispose of the Crup, and, despite Draco’s frantic sobbing, he’d never seen the creature again.

“Very well, Mother. Arrange a meeting with the Greengrasses for next week”

After returning his Mother to the Manor, and changing his clothes, Draco apparated into London. He wasn’t far from Harry’s place, but he found himself walking rather aimlessly. He watched the couples he passed with detached interest, seeing them holding hands, exchanging words, and smiles. And still, he walked, and walked, until his feet were tired, and he wasn’t sure where he was anymore. As it got later, and the crowds of people thinned, Draco continued walking.

Finally, when his strength was nearly gone, he spun on his heel and ended up at the Apparation point down the street from Harry. The little house, still under Fidelius, appeared in front of him. Climbing the steps, Draco felt the wards accept him, a tingling, comforting wash of magic. Entering the house, he found it dark and quiet. Draco stole up the stairs, feeling the bannister solid and warm below his hands. Entering Harry’s room, Draco inhaled Harry’s distinctive scent. Draco pulled off his clothing, and climbed into bed. Harry exhaled sleepily, turning over to wrap a leg firmly around Draco’s, and nuzzling his nose into Draco’s neck.

“Missed you” Harry breathed softly, pressing a soft kiss against Draco’s pulse point. Draco’s arms tightened around Harry, his face buried into Harry’s sleep-rumpled hair. Harry’s hands ghosted down Draco’s sides, his rising erection warm and persistent against Draco’s hip. Before Draco could do anything, Harry had slithered down the bed and took Draco’s cock into his mouth. Draco felt a gasp escape his parted lips, Harry’s tongue and lips and the warmth of his mouth around his cock. 

“I need to fuck you, Harry” Draco breathed, and Harry murmured appreciatively around his cock. Obligingly rolling onto his stomach, Harry tilted his arse invitingly at Draco. “No” Draco knew his voice sounded choked. “I want to see you”

Harry flipped over, and Draco conjured lube onto his fingers. He probed gently into the tempting ring of muscle and Harry sighed happily. “Feels good” he breathed. Draco added a second, pausing to kiss Harry’s forehead, the tip of his nose, the crook of his neck. Draco’s fingers probed a little before finding the delicious little nub of Harry’s prostate, and, as he stroked it, Harry keened. A third finger joined the other two, and Draco gently stretched and prepared Harry. “Baby, I’m ready” Harry whispered. “Need your cock”

With a groan, Draco removed his fingers as Harry arched up, his hungry arse desperate to be filled. Pressing his cock past the guardian muscle, Draco paused for a moment, watching as Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, long lashes resting on his cheeks. His lips were parted a little, swollen and red from their enthusiastic kissing. Before long, Harry had begun to cant his hips, encouraging Draco to move. Pressing further inside, Draco fully seated himself inside Harry, and paused for a moment to push Harry’s mad hair out of his eyes, lay a gentle kiss on his scar. “Draco, please” Harry begged.

Resolve spent, Draco bucked his hips wildly, knowing exactly what angle to hit to land on Harry’s prostate. Harry completely came apart under him, his breath in frantic pants, groaning as Draco’s cock told him everything that he felt about him. With a sharp cry, Harry came, spurting his seed across his belly. Watching his lover fall apart, and feeling the pulse of his greedy arse, Draco followed him, filling Harry with his seed. When they both were spent, Harry lazily cast a cleansing charm on them, and snuggled close to Draco. “You’re my very favourite” he whispered to Draco, before falling, adorably, to sleep.

Draco laid in the dark, listening to Harry’s even breaths, tears silently falling down his cheeks. His hand forced, Draco knew that there was no way he could stay. He’d fallen for Harry; maybe it had happened years ago, perhaps it was more recent, but the Draco who had watched Harry Potter die to defeat the Dark Lord had grown up. He’d been a selfish prat as a child, and he knew that this was his punishment. He’d escaped the war with his life, and his freedom, and Draco knew better than to think he deserved anything more. 

Laying a ghost of a kiss on Harry’s lips, Draco extricated himself from the covers, stood in the doorway watching the only person he’d ever loved, and then, finally, stole down the stairs and out the door.

“I left for Canada that night” Draco finished. “The first few months were terrible. I had a job in a concession stand at a hockey arena. Every night when I finished working, I’d go back to the dismal hotel I was renting, and try to convince myself not to write you. I wanted to die. Most nights I drank myself stupid, trying to forget the way your eyes stared up at me, like I mattered.”

There didn’t seem much more to say. Somehow during the telling of the story, they’d sat on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed, not looking at one another. Draco sat silently, finally unburdened of the terrible reasons that had chased him halfway across the world. He felt empty. It didn’t fucking matter. Harry knew now, that Draco hadn’t wanted to leave, but Draco had left. And now four years had passed, and somehow Harry hadn’t married Ginny Weasley, and he hadn’t gotten his happily ever after.

Harry wasn’t looking at him. Draco suspected that Harry wouldn’t want to see him again. He stood. “Harry, I’ll go. I’m so desperately sorry. I just wanted you to know that I never stopped loving you”.

“Sit down” Harry growled, his voice uncharacteristically cool. “I have questions”

Draco sat, his legs feeling rather boneless, and, in truth, it was likely that he wouldn’t have been able to stay standing much longer.

“So, to summarize” Harry began “after having my life dictated to me by a bloody prophesy and a half-mad Headmaster, when I finally found happiness for myself, the person who was responsible for that happiness-“ Draco’s voice made a strange choking noise then, the mention of him making Harry happy breaking his heart all over again. “If you please.” Harry commanded, with a wave of his hand. “As I was saying, the person who was the source of my newfound happiness decided that, when faced with someone who didn’t approve of my happiness, he’d simply make the decision for me? Does that accurately summarize your story?”

Draco nodded, feeling absolutely wretched. “Draco, I understand why you decided to leave, even though I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to love anyone ever again” That strangled noise left Draco’s throat unbidden again. “What really fucking annoys me is the fact that you just made the decision without talking to me about it”

“I know” Draco’s voice was heavy with unshed tears. “It’s the worst thing I could have done. I wanted to be a hero for you. I wanted to sacrifice myself for you like you’d done for everyone else. I wanted you to have your happily ever after, and I saw how much you loved Teddy, and...” Draco felt his lips form the shape of a little sob, and couldn’t keep it from escaping. He took a breath, tried to get his shaking voice under control. “I was so afraid that you’d end up staying with me out of loyalty. I know what you’re like, Harry. If someone threatens someone you care about, you’ll do anything to protect them. I wanted to protect you for once. You deserve so much happiness, and Andromeda seemed so certain that you were betrothed to Ginny. I realized that if I stayed, you'd give it up for me, give up Teddy, and your wife.”

“But I wanted to introduce you to my family. You must have realized that it would have gotten awkward if we showed up at the Weasleys while I was betrothed to Gin.”

“You never mentioned the Weasleys. Andromeda called me a ‘dalliance’.”

“Yeah, I’d be pretty annoyed with her if she wasn’t mad.”

“What?”

“Yeah, the Black madness took her. She’s in Janus Thickey. Come to think of it, she started going downhill right after you left.”

“I suppose I can’t be mad at her either then. But I am”

“Yeah, me too”

“And I can’t really be mad at Mother. She’s dying. So that just leaves myself”

“Yeah.”

“Harry, I’ll never be able to make it up to you. I wish things were different, Merlin, you have no idea how much I’d like to take it all back.”

“I feel better knowing that you didn’t just shag me and leave, like none of it mattered”

“It mattered. It was everything”

Neither spoke for some time. Draco sat, his shame and dismay weighing him down, willing to do anything, to give up his magic for a chance at changing the outcome. He couldn’t look at Harry, and sat inspecting the crooked finger on his left hand. He’d broken it during a particularly spirited disagreement with a member of an opposing team. It still ached when it rained. Draco wished it was raining now. Any pain would be welcome to distract him from the dull torment in his chest. He’d fucked things up so spectacularly. 

Draco had never enjoyed hurting other people. (Teasing them, yes, finding ways to feel a bit superior, obviously.) The war had stripped him bare of any desire to exert such tendencies on another living thing. His actions during the last crazy days of Voldemort’s rule had been full of cowardice, and had begun to change the way that he’d looked at others. Escaping with his life had seemed such a gift that Draco had vowed, sitting in the barely-recognizable rubble of the Great Hall to be a force for good, and if not that, to never allow someone else to hurt by his actions. Which is why it hurt so much to have hurt Harry as he did. Especially Harry, who had such a capacity for love, and was so deserving of a life that was full of the adoration he deserved. To learn that his actions hadn’t nudged Harry toward his family, his wife-and-three-kids that Draco felt he deserved…well, it hurt.

“So where does that leave us now?” Harry’s voice was brittle. Draco cringed at the lack of warmth.

“Dunno. You could hex me, if you wanted. Or punch me out? Hermione seemed to get a lot of satisfaction from that, once.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you Draco. I wanted to love you, you great stupid arsehole”

Harry’s words dislodged something in Draco that he hadn’t even realized existed. To his immense horror, he felt a prickling in his nose, and, before he knew it, enormous tears were rolling down his cheeks. A sob popped out, followed by another, and suddenly, he was weeping, his forehead on the floor, feeling that he might die from the pain he was feeling. He sort of hoped he would. His crying was undignified, loud inelegant wails, but Draco was pretty sure he was never going to be able to stop. Harry hovered above him, eyes wide, and impossibly green, unsure what to do, unprepared to deal with such unfettered anguish. Tears swam in his own eyes, and finally, as no other options present himself, he settled next to Draco, wrapping himself around Draco’s heaving form and held on.

When Draco finally stopped crying, his eyes aching, and his throat hoarse, he sat up. He could barely meet Harry’s eyes. “I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you. I hope that, now that you understand, you’ll be able to find someone who deserves you.”

“Draco, wait”

But Draco couldn’t wait. He couldn’t stay any longer, viewing the failed results of his greatest sacrifice. He sped down the stairs and through the floo before he could change his mind.


	3. Saying Goodbye

He spent the rest of the day, after a shower and a calming draught, by his mother’s bedside, reading poetry aloud. As the late summer sun sank below the horizon, flooding his Mother’s room with crimson orange light, Draco dared to speak. He was certain his Mother couldn’t hear him; her periods of lucidity seemed to be infrequent this week. In his loneliness and desperation to have someone who understood him, Draco poured out the whole story, finishing with the awful night he’d just spent with Harry.

“My Dragon” his Mother’s voice surprised him. 

“Mother, it’s fine, you should rest”

“I need to tell you this, my Darling.” His Mother’s voice was reedy, unlike the confident tones he’d grown used to as a child. He took her hand, giving her time to gather her strength. “I wronged you, child. In the time following the war, I was desperate for a way to restore our name. Your Father was in Azkaban, but I knew what he wished for you. I fell back on the traditions that had served us well in the past. In doing so, I forgot to listen to you. And I chased you away, and destroyed any chance of happiness you may have had”

“You didn’t, Mother” Draco hurried to reassure her. “Even if you hadn’t been encouraging me to arrange the betrothal, I would still have left. I wanted Harry to have the sort of life he deserved”

Narcissa gasped for breath, the effort of speaking taking its toll on her. As her breaths quietened, she finally said “Since your Father has gone, I’ve been able to reflect on what meaning I wish to have from my life. You are my legacy, darling. I want you to have the life you deserved. You’ve paid your penance, Draco. You deserve what you want. You have my blessing, should you find a way to work it out with Harry”

Draco’s smile felt bitter. “Thank you Mother. I don’t think that there will be any way for us to come back from such a betrayal, but it does mean a lot that you’re willing to provide your blessing”

“I wish things had been different, Dragon”

“I do too”

He sat with his Mother until the shadows lengthened, and night fell. Her room was quiet, only the sound of her tortured breathing and occasional moan interrupting the stillness. He occasionally wiped her brow, murmured comforting words when her sleep seemed pained, and bided. Waiting for a parent to die is truly a terrible thing, he reflected, when there is nothing left to fight against, when hope is lost, and all that remains is borrowed time. Draco waited, and brooded, and in the lonely hours after midnight, he dared to think of the life that could have been his. He had no more tears, just the bare, exhausted acceptance of his fate. Very soon, he would be utterly alone. Draco concentrated on being very still, his hands loosely placed on his knees, luxuriating in the pain.

He didn’t expect the owl that arrived the following morning. He was still in his mother’s room. The house elves had entreated him to please, Master Draco, please go to bed. Missus Cissy is being asleep. But despite their pleas, he remained, in the stillness, keeping watch. He dozed off in the early morning, awakening with a stiff neck and feeling gritty. The owl that swooped in gave him an appraising look. Feeling defensive, Draco said “Well, what do you have?” He didn’t recognize this owl, but in order for it to have breached the wards, it had to be friendly. The owl held its leg out imperiously. As Draco untied the letter, the owl fluttered its wings, affronted that Draco hadn’t petted it first. Too tired, and too full of despair to be pandering to strange owls, Draco said “Go find an elf if you’re hungry” before simply ignoring it, unfolding the letter.

When he realized who the letter is from, he regretted not being kinder to the owl. But no matter, it had disappeared from where it came, and Draco was holding the parchment.

You forgot your jumper

-H

Draco had always been smart. And he was a Slytherin. For as long as he could remember, Draco had been able to take a situation, and turn it to the greatest possible advantage. Part of that cleverness, however, was knowing when there was no possible advantage, and to walk away. But Draco Malfoy had always had one irresistible exception to that rule…Harry Potter. Even in first year, when Draco had come to the realization that he wasn’t going to be friends with the Boy who Lived, he was unable to stop baiting him, stop seeking his attention. Like a moth and a flame, Draco couldn’t leave well enough alone when it came to Harry.

Despite his better, more mature judgement, this was no exception. Anticipation and wild, stupid hope flaring in his belly, Draco raced to the study and grabbed a parchment and quill. He paused for a moment, considering, then his quill raced across the parchment.

Pity. It’s one of my favourites, too. What will I have to do to get it back?

-D

Summoning an elf, he commanded it to deliver the missive to Harry Potter, and sat back to wait. He was still disgustingly unbathed, a night of dozing in an uncomfortable chair taking its toll, but he was unable to leave the room to go shower. 

The owl returned more quickly than Draco would have imagined. Harry likely wrote his response the moment he got Draco’s. Anticipation roiling in his chest, Draco felt weak as he unwrapped the parchment.

I suppose you’ll need to come get it

-H

For a moment, Draco felt a jolt of panic. Unable to read the tone from the brief note, Draco was fearful that he’s read the situation all wrong. Maybe Harry was eager to banish all of Draco’s property from his home. But then wouldn’t he have just wrapped up the jumper and sent it to the Manor without the note, he wondered frantically. Also, I’m not even sure I was wearing a jumper last night. Well, regardless, an invitation was an invitation, and, whether it was folly or not, Draco was committed.

Dashing upstairs to the shower, Draco completed the speediest, and most thorough cleansing of his life. Hoping against hope, he donned his lucky boxers, hoping that the presumption didn’t jinx him. He added the only pair of jeans that fit him properly, and a touchably soft dove-grey kangaroo hoody. Standing in front of the mirror, patting his hair in place, Draco was aware of a thrumming plea resounding through his chest. Oh please, oh please don’t let this be awful. Please don’t break my heart any more than it’s already been broken, Harry. Please want me again. Recognizing that any further delay will result in his chickening out, he made his way to the floo and fire called Harry.

Of course, Harry didn’t answer the floo. Instead, Neville Longbottom’s earnest face appeared in the flames. “Malfoy” he stated, less of a greeting than an observation. Draco hadn’t remembered his face being so closed, so adult before. Maybe this was just his 'Draco' face.

“Hullo Neville.”

“What do you want?” his words weren’t unkind, just a bit dismissive, as though Draco were an inconvenient caller, disrupting Neville from his tea. For all Draco knew, that was exactly what he was.

“I was hoping to speak to Harry”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Again, the words aren’t unkind, exactly, just, cool. Neville had lost all of the shy fearful composure that he carried at Hogwarts. In its place was a quiet, confident man. 

“Well” Draco began, “No, I’m not sure it is at all. But he owled me.”

“And?”

“And I’ve never been any good at doing the smart thing when it comes to Harry” Draco admitted, honesty winning over any artifice. 

Surprisingly, this honesty seemed to disarm Longbottom, his broad face breaking into a wide grin. “I reckon he’s no better when it comes to you. Who am I to stand in the way of destiny?” With that, he retreated from the fire, and called “Harry. Floo for you”

Harry’s face appeared in the flames soon after. “Draco”

“I understand you have something of mine” Why did Harry look so sodding delicious? Draco felt his hands extending, unbidden towards the flames. 

“Come through” Harry stepped back and Draco stumbled through the flames, trying and failing to look as though he had perfect balance. Stupid Harry Potter’s stupid uneven hearth. Stupid Draco, looking like a prat. Harry was wearing an ancient t-shirt that was nearly transparent, it was so worn. Draco tried not to stare at the two perfect nipples underneath the fabric, remembering another time when he’d sucked those nipples and made Harry writhe beneath him. “Drink?”

“Okay”

“Sit” It was awkward, and not the effusive welcome Draco would have liked, but Harry also hadn’t thrust his jumper through the flames at him. Draco perched uneasily on the sofa, his body tight and stiff. There was an ocean of throw pillows on the sofa, making it difficult to get comfortable. Draco wriggled a little, trying to surreptitiously rearrange the ones wedged behind his lower back. Harry soon returned with two jam jars filled with liquid. Thank fuck, it wasn’t orange. Taking a sip, Draco realized that it was Firewhiskey, and the familiar bite made his throat sore. And his heart sore.

Harry flung himself onto the sofa on the opposite end from Draco, before roaring “Hannah!” and flinging every throw pillow he could reach onto the floor. “Your fucking cushions are procreating! This has to stop!”

“Sorry” Draco heard from a floor above, followed by peals of giggles.

“Shut the fuck up!” Another voice commanded from elsewhere in the house. “I have to work in the buggering morning” Pansy.

“Why do I even bother trying to study here? It’s worse than the Burrow!” That was Granger’s voice.

Harry grinned at Draco. “It’s bedlam here, sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s no different than the house I stay in a lot of the time.”

“Hockey, huh?”

“Yeah. I needed something different”

“Well, that’s different. I’d love to see you play sometime” Draco coloured. Harry wanted to see him again?

The silence overtook them for a moment, each man staring into the fire, lost in thought. Finally Draco said “How is it that you have this…collection of housemates?”

Harry’s smile was tight. “They don’t all live here full-time. After you- well, after…I wasn’t really in a very good place, and Hermione and Ron started staying over to make sure I ate and got out of bed and stuff. They were happy to get a bit of privacy; The Burrow is worse than here, most of the time. But, eventually, they had school, and work and stuff, and I was…well I wasn’t really okay. So Nev and Hannah moved in too.”

“Harry-“ Draco’s voice is thick with regret.

Harry continues talking quickly, obviously not ready for a repeat of all of the feelings of their last visit. “The Slytherins came a bit later. Blaise and Hermione got to know one another in Unspeakable training, and with his Mother gone, he was looking for somewhere to stay, so he was next. He’s quiet, you know, it didn’t seem to change anything. That’s how we met Pansy. It seems her parents didn’t really appreciate her…lifestyle.” At Draco’s raised eyebrow, Harry continued. “They flipped shit when they realized that she and Daphne Greengrass’ slumber parties weren’t quite as innocent as they let on. They cast her out.”

“She’s been disinherited?” Draco was shocked. He’d never thought that Pansy’s parents would be so heartless.

“Nice girls don’t go down on their roommates” Harry said with a grimace. “It shattered her. Blaise was all she had left. She was homeless and broke, and it was rather difficult for a disinherited Slytherin to find employment, especially one with the dubious honour of having suggested they throw the Chosen One to the Dark Lord during the final battle. Pans had a tough time, and, what can I say? I’m a sucker for someone who needs saving.”

Harry grinned, but there wasn’t any of its usual warmth. “So we saved each other. Pansy was grieving her future, and so was I. We sat around and felt sorry for ourselves, and then we somehow became a family.”

Draco was struck, suddenly, by how they’d all moved on. His absence hadn’t really left a gap at all. Such a strange feeling, he marvelled, to be glad that these people who mattered so much to him were healing, and simultaneously completely furious that nobody missed him. “I’m glad.” he said tightly. “Glad that you have each other.”

“Well” Harry said. 

Well indeed. Draco felt a wave of misery. Why was he doing this? Probing at the ache of his former life like a missing tooth? This was madness. “I suppose I should get out of your hair” he said awkwardly.

“You’re no bother” Harry said quietly. “Besides, you don’t want to miss Drag Race”

“You watch Drag Race?” The show was Draco’s secret guilty pleasure, stealthily hidden from his teammates. They knew he was bent, but Draco made sure not to make a thing of it. The machismo ran heavy in the locker room, and although he was pretty sure nobody would fault him for it, he kept any campy inclinations to himself while in Canada.

“We all watch Drag Race” Harry grinned suddenly, and Draco’s heart did another unappealing flip. Against his better judgement, he flung some of the throw cushions onto the floor and leaned back into the couch while Harry called the housemates. Harry flopped beside him and Draco was aware of a warm thigh so close to his own that it was nearly touching. Draco took a breath and tried to ignore it.

Watching RuPaul coach and berate a room full of queens with a bunch of former classmates ranked high up on Draco’s list of 'Weird Experiences I’ve Had'. It wasn’t quite as fraught as dining with a Dark Lord while your Muggle studies teacher dangled above the table, but it was still surreal. Ron in particular was highly invested in the show, and when his favourite contestant was eliminated, he threw a bowl of popcorn in fury. “She was robbed” he spat in disgust.

Harry watched Ron tantrum, a bemused little smile on his face. “This happens, sometimes. Ron gets attached”

“Of course I get attached, mate, she was the most talented of the lot!” Ron kicked a cushion in fury, prompting Hannah to give him a filthy glare.

“Is there a reason why there are so many cushions?” Draco asked suddenly.

The room went quiet. “It’s because everyone always forgets the Hufflepuffs” Hannah said mildly. “We’re quieter than the other houses, but we have value. I just don’t like us being forgotten”

“We don’t forget the ‘Puffs” Hermione said, giving Hannah a little squeeze. 

“Besides,” Harry continued. “All of the houses had value. And nobody was just one thing. Neville wasn’t just brave, and Cedric wasn’t just loyal.”

“Cedric!” the group shouted, as one, raising their glasses in the air.

“And some of us were more than one house” Luna said with a raise of her eyebrow. Draco tilted his head curiously at her. “Harry was supposed to be a snake” she elaborated.

“Luns, that’s a secret. The hat hates people telling tales of its mis-sorts” Harry chided.

Draco turned on him. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. Hat wanted me for Slytherin. But, I had just met a little prat who terrified me, so I begged it to send me somewhere else” Harry’s eyes were glinting. Draco wanted to bite him.

“Do you think the hat would still put us in our same houses?” Pansy wondered.

“If the hat had a lick of sense, it wouldn’t sort kids at all. It’s a stupid system, and the last thing a little kid needs is to be fed a bunch of nonsense about preordained characteristics. Minny is sick to death of me nagging her about it” Harry grumbled.

“I still can’t understand why we’re basing an entire school governmental structure around a bloody piece of clothing, even if it does talk” Ron offered. “Dad always said not to trust anything without a brain”

Draco looked at him in surprise. “That was…well said” he marvelled.

“It does happen” Ron said mildly, smirking at him. How had Draco gotten here with this room full of people, just…accepting him? With a pleased little smile, he turned his attention back to the telly.

He became aware of a warm hand on his arm, a breath close to his ear. “Draco?”

Startling awake, Draco’s eyes flew open and he found himself staring into Harry’s. The eyes that had captivated him, laughed at him, danced with mischief, they were so familiar that Draco felt a throb of loss. Looking around, he realized that only he and Harry remained in the sitting room. “Sorry, I must have dozed off”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I…I haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Draco, with all that’s been happening with us, I never got a chance to say. I’m so sorry about your mum. Pansy told me that she’s not doing well”

“Yes, well…” Draco trailed off. There wasn’t much to say.

“Do you want to sleep here?” As he said the words, Harry seemed to freeze, as though he regretted them. 

“No. Thank you, but I should get home and check on Mother”

It was awkward, but Draco knew better than to stay where he wasn’t wanted. With a heavy heart, he flooed home. For another agonizing night, he sat quietly in his Mother’s room, listening to her breathing and cursing his traitorous mind for remembering a warm thigh next to his own.

The owl that arrived the following morning was beginning to look irritated that he was back. Draco was shocked to see him, but said “Go find one of the elves and they’ll get you a snack” as he untied the letter. The owl cocked its head at Draco, as though he were unsure why Draco wasn’t fetching the snack himself. Draco ignored the bird, and unwrapped the parchment.

So when can I see you play hockey?

-H

Draco felt his forehead wrinkling. Apparently Harry had a similar proclivity for probing at an injury until it bled more. There had been more than one opportunity to settle things between them. It seemed cruel to prolong the more formal ending of their relationship any further, but Draco supposed he owed Harry whatever he needed to seek closure.

With a mental shrug, he fetched a parchment and quill. 

I’ll be training all morning. Come when you like.

-D

This would be painful, Draco knew. Seeing Harry again, knowing that he would never be his, it unlocked a cavern of such endless grief that Draco knew it was changing him. He’d been able to nobly walk away once. Doing so a second time would likely ruin Draco completely, but being exposed to Harry’s pain, of the way that Draco had robbed Harry of agency in making a decision that impacted him…it was unforgivable.

Draco had never truly atoned for his actions during the war. Whether under coercion or not, he had taken the Dark Mark, and he had let Death Eaters into the castle the night Dumbledore died. He’d also been a despicable little shit during school, and had childishly and selfishly baited Harry, over and over again. Moreover, though, he’d swallowed the teachings of his Father: That muggleborns were filth, that he, as one of the Sacred Twenty-eight was superior to others, that Voldemort’s plans were the only way to right the balance in the Wizarding World. Harry’s upbringing had been different than his, granted, but he’d always been strong enough to do the right thing, even at the cost of his life, his friends, his soul. Draco hadn’t sacrificed enough, despite what he’d thought he was doing by leaving Britain. This was his opportunity to set things right.

If Harry needed to destroy him in the process of gaining closure, well. Hadn’t that been what he thought he’d been doing the first time he ran away? Resolved to his fate, Draco vowed to let Harry do whatever it was he wanted. Then, after, his Mother…well, after, Draco would return to Canada and see if there was anything left of him.

He went to his rooms, showered, and donned a pair of dark grey track pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. Muggles really did know what they were doing when it came to comfortable clothing. Summoning a house-elf, Draco requested a Pepper-up potion and some coffee. He would have asked for a protein shake, as was his normal breakfast on a training day, but he suspected that house-elf magic didn’t extend to blenders and electrolyte powder.

It was 9:30. Since he hadn’t told Harry what time to arrive, Draco figured he might as well go start his training, and the elves would get Harry to him if he did show up. The room that Draco had commandeered as his dryland training room had been a conservatory, in earlier days. There were wide windows throughout, and many of the plants that Narcissa had lovingly tended still lived, if feebly. Draco had shoved them all into a corner, and transfigured a pile of old orchid pots into his equipment. The treadmill had been more difficult to conjure, and so Draco had ordered it online using his phone, and cast a handy spell to ensure it ran without electricity. He knew that, within weeks, the magic contained in the wards would interfere with the device’s inner workings and it would be useless, but, if his Mother still needed him, he could always buy another. Money, he thought, was one of the few things that didn’t trouble him, now that he was the de facto head of household. In fact, if he wished, he had no need to return to Canada and scrimp to live as a poorly paid hockey instructor. Putting that thought aside for the moment, he started on the treadmill and began to run. Fifteen minutes later, he considered himself sufficiently warmed up, and he began a series of deadlifts. The familiar exercises were soothing, and Draco soon lost himself in the mindless repetition. Lift, hold, release, repeat. 

He was so immersed in his actions that he didn’t hear the door open, and it wasn’t until Harry’s voice said his name that he realized he wasn’t alone. Without thinking, his heart leapt, and he smiled at Harry, before realizing that Harry wasn’t his to smile at any longer. He felt the expression fall from his face, and grabbed a towel from the pile next to the treadmill. As he scrubbed himself with the rough material, he battled the paradox of Harry being so here, but so distant. As he managed to get his features cooperating, he banished the towel to the laundry and tried to produce a more normal facial expression.

“What are you doing?” Harry wondered, eyeing the treadmill with suspicion. 

“Training. I’m afraid it’s not that exciting”

“I would have expected you to be in skates”

“Well, I will be, shortly. But off-ice training is important too. I need a strong core to support me. I just have one more thing to finish before I hit the ice, okay? Do you want tea, or breakfast?”

“No, I’m fine. Are you sure you’re okay with me watching you?”

“If you want. It’s mostly repetitive hard work, so I can’t promise anything sexy” Draco cursed himself as the words slipped out unbidden. Stupid!

Harry’s eyes widened a fraction. “I’ll be fine. Just go about your…work” The Conservatory had once housed a number of rattan loungers, and Harry spotted one in the corner, along with all of the scraggly plants. He dragged it from the pile, and threw himself on it.

Draco finished his routine with a set of pullups. He loathed pull-ups, but his coach had been unyeilding in his criticism of Draco’s shoulder muscles, and he acknowledged that they needed work. He began the set, concentrating on his form. He’d thrown his t-shirt over by the towels before he started running, and was wearing only an undershirt. As he leapt lightly down from the pull up bars and pulled the t-shirt over his head, he thought he spotted a familiar look in Harry’s eyes. Did Harry still think he looked fit? A tiny, mulish part of his brain hoped so, hoped that Harry found this a fraction as difficult as Draco did.

“Okay, time for a skate” Draco led Harry to the rink, and into the small room he’d converted into a facsimile of a locker room. He was just training today, so he didn’t need equipment, but he sat on the bench and pulled a knee support onto his right leg.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a muggle thing. A knee brace. My joints were a little messed up. One too many Cruciatus curses. This just makes sure my knee stays aligned.” Draco pulled a set of hockey socks over his trackpants, more because the colours of his team made him smile than anything.

“Draco”

“Yes Harry?”

“Why are your leg…things red and gold?”

Draco grinned. “Well, the West Parkdale Wolves are very proud to sport the crimson and gold. And I’m a very proud member of the Wolves”

“You’ve changed”

Draco snorted. “What, you think I’d throw my chances at playing away because I couldn’t play on a green and silver team? I just wanted to join a team at this level. I wouldn’t care if they made us play in lion costumes”

“Is that a thing?”

Draco merely grinned, and focused on getting the laces to his skates tied tightly. He pulled a practice jersey over his head to stay warmer, since he’d been sitting around a while, and grabbed his gloves. “Let’s go”

As they approached the ice, Draco inhaled deeply. The sharp, crisp smell of the ice always filled his senses with excitement. He’d conjured some dummies who would approximate opponents, and, although they weren’t like playing with team members, at least they’d provide a bit of a barrier to get around. And these ones weren’t spelled to slam him into the boards, so this practice was already guaranteed to hurt less than a usual one. He got Harry settled on a bench with a warming charm, and stepped onto the ice.

Draco liked hockey because it felt like flying. As he quickly skated the circles on the rink, and then did the whole thing again backwards, the way the breeze ruffled his hair reminded him of November games on the Quidditch pitch. As he darted after the puck one of his dummies had shot into a corner behind the net, it might as well have been the snitch. Draco loved hockey, because, even in the Muggle world, he had a chance to remember what it was like to be a wizard.

He finished his drills, and set up a quick scrimmage with the dummies. When he managed to evade the defenders and bury the puck into the top right corner of the net for the fifth time, he decided he’d had enough training for the day. He skated over to where Harry was sitting, and stopped quickly, showering Harry with a spray of ice from his blades.

“So” he said, with a little smile. “Do you like hockey?”

“It’s brilliant, Draco. You’re…” Harry broke off for a moment, lowered his eyes, blushed. “You’re good” Draco felt his smile widen as he basked in Harry’s admiration. It was sweet torture.

“Are you ready to try it out?”

“I’m not sure, Draco, it looks kind of-“

“Scared, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes darkened “You wish, Malfoy”

Draco found a spare pair of skates, and knelt at Harry’s feet. He removed Harry’s trainers and shoved his socked foot into the first skate. His eyes flicked up to Harry’s to check his comfort, and for a moment, he was remembering. Green eyes, pupils dilated with lust as Draco nestled between Harry’s legs, taking Harry’s cock into his mouth. For a moment, Draco’s eyes lingered on Harry’s crotch, then he stopped himself, and remembered. Harry wasn’t his anymore. Draco breathed. Waited until his thumping heart had reached a reasonable pace again, and then said “The fit okay?”

“Yeah” Harry’s voice was breathy, and his tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. Maybe Draco wasn’t the other one remembering. Draco blushed, let his hair fall into his eyes and concentrated on tying his lace. “It’s tight” Merlin, was Harry trying to wind him up?

“It’s supposed to be. Supports your ankles” Draco’s voice sounded strained, even to himself, and his erection was making it tough to concentrate on skate-tying. He put on Harry’s other skate as quickly as he could, then rose, willing his disobedient cock to settle down. It obeyed about as well as could be expected, given the situation. “Okay, let’s go”

“Do I get a stick?” Harry was eying Draco’s hockey stick with interest.

“Let’s focus on keeping you off your arse first” Draco hopped onto the ice, facing Harry. He’d dumped his gloves when he was tying Harry’s skates, so he extended his hands, offering support if needed. Harry gingerly stepped onto the ice, and immediately lost his balance, pitching towards the ice. Draco laughed, grabbed his hands and said “Easy. Start slow. It takes a little time to get used to it” Getting Harry balanced on his feet, Draco slowly skated backwards, towing Harry along. Harry’s ankles shuddered, unused to supporting him on thin blades. Gradually, he started to feel his balance a little more, and before long, Harry was tentatively starting to shuffle his feet. “There you go” Draco encouraged. He risked letting go of Harry’s hands for a moment, and stood in front of him. Pivoting so that his back was to Harry, Draco demonstrated the proper stride, exaggerating his movements, so that Harry could better see the way he dug his edges into the ice and pushed off. He turned back around to see if Harry was giving it a shot. Harry was not giving it a shot. Rather, he looked dazed and glassy-eyed.

“Harry, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Is it too cold? Do you want to go inside?” Draco was concerned. The wards on the Manor were really very good, but it wasn’t unheard of that some remnant Death Eater had somehow snuck in and confunded Harry while Draco hadn’t been paying attention. 

Harry blinked a few times and gave him a look that Draco vaguely remembered from his old life. Harry reddened, straightened, and said “Sorry. I’m fine. Just got distracted for a second”

“Okay, give it a shot”

Before long, Harry was making wobbly strides around the rink, but was already getting frustrated. “How long before I can go fast?”

“It might take a while” Draco admitted. "But if you put on a helmet, you might feel braver." Draco skated back to the dressing room, grabbed elbow and shin pads, a helmet and a jersey. He strapped the pads onto Harry’s legs, keeping his face resolutely away from Harry’s crotch, and then got his elbow pads tightened. He pulled the jersey over Harry’s riot of hair, and slammed the helmet on for good measure. 

Harry looked fucking adorable in hockey kit. His cheeks had pinked in the cool air of the rink, and his eyes were shining with determination. Draco longed to kiss his chapped lips, but instead looked away, squared his shoulders and said “There, you look a proper hockey player now”

“How do you move in this stuff?”

“You’re overthinking this, Harry. Did you stop to question how to fly, how to catch the snitch? Of course not. From the moment you took off after Neville’s Remberall, you went by instinct. Now, we’ve protected all your breaky bits, so just stop thinking. Just catch me” With that, Draco took off down the ice at a fairly slow pace, pivoting on his right skate to give Harry a cheeky look and skated backwards to watch what happened next.

What happened, was that Harry stopped wobbling, and instead let his natural athleticism take over. He wasn’t fast, and he wasn’t even graceful, but he was skating, and Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He’d seen that particular look on Harry’s face countless times before, usually high above a Quidditch pitch as he bested Draco. And it gave him such a stab of nostalgia for the past, that he didn’t notice that he'd stopped moving. The fact that he hadn’t taught Harry how to stop occurred to him just as Harry barrelled into him at a decent clip. Despite his attempts to catch hold of Harry, and keep himself upright, before he knew what was happening, he found himself laying on his back in the ice, with Harry laying on top of him.

Harry was laughing. “Sorry, Draco, I don’t know where they put the brakes on these” His face was so close to Draco’s and Draco couldn’t stop staring into those laughing green eyes. Again, Draco realized how stupid he’d been to leave Harry. He’d regret it forever. Harry’s laughter abruptly died as his gaze intensified. Draco could see that Harry was staring at his lips. In a different life, one where Draco hadn’t been so stupid, they’d be kissing right now, and laughing, and it would be something that Draco would remember. Except somehow Harry hadn’t gotten the message, and he was drawing closer. Draco’s breath caught and for a moment he thought he’d die if Harry kissed him. Then he thought he’d die if Harry didn’t. Either way, he was completely fucked. The touch of Harry’s lips to Draco’s was delicate and sweet. Draco was terrified to move too quickly, lest he scare Harry away. 

His thoughts were racing, trying to figure out why Harry was doing this. How was this helping Harry get closure? Nevermind, he’d vowed to do what Harry wanted, and all this thinking was preventing him from enjoying the first kiss he’d had in four years. Harry’s lips parted slightly, and his tongue delicately traced Draco’s lip, seeking entrance. Draco’s mouth opened with a blissful sigh, and Harry’s tongue was there, gently sliding against his. Before he had a chance to really process it, Harry had pulled away, and scrambled back onto his arse. Draco blinked dumbly at him.

“I’m sorry” Harry said quietly.

“No, I am. I-“

Harry was trying to get to his feet, and so Draco rose to his, and held out a hand. Harry hesitated for a moment before taking it, and before long, they were both back on their feet.

“My arse is half frozen” Draco said, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “Can we go inside and get tea?”

“Tea” Harry agreed vaguely, and obediently followed Draco inside.

“I’m kind of disgusting, do you mind if I quickly shower? Are you cold? Do you want a change of clothes?”

“Draco, I’m fine, don’t fuss” Draco settled him down with a tea tray by the fire, and raced upstairs. Under the punishing needles of the showerhead, he tried to figure out just what the fuck had happened there. Ten minutes later, he was no closer to an answer, so he turned off the taps, spelled himself dry and dressed. 

As he went downstairs, he found the sitting room empty, and no sign of Harry. So that was it, Draco realized. It was over. Harry had obtained whatever sort of closure that he needed, and it was time for Draco to focus on the real reason he was here. 

“It’s almost a relief, Mother” Draco whispered, once again sitting by Narcissa’s bedside. “Of course, it’s not, really. But seeing him, knowing that he isn’t mine anymore, it’s awful.” He opened the book of poetry and began to read.

The house elf came into the room, a box in her hands. “Master Draco, an owl has just been delivering this”

Opening the box, Draco unwrapped a small vial. Inside was a liquid of the most beautiful iridescent green. Fleetingly, Draco thought of Harry’s eyes, then unfolded the note.

Draco - Hermione’s been experimenting with potions that assist people in medically-induced rest. This draught will give your mum comforting dreams. Just massage some into her temples. Get some sleep and make sure the house elves feed you. 

H

As Draco massaged the potions onto his Mother’s temple, he heaved a sigh. It was a thoughtful gesture, so like Harry. Narcissa sighed, and Draco thought that the tight lines around her eyes eased some. Granger really was a clever witch.

It wasn’t easy to floo to Scotland and back in the morning, but Draco knew that the treacle tart sold at the bakery in Hogsmeade was Harry’s favorite. He packaged up the box, and picked up a quill.

Harry,

Thank you for thinking of my Mother and sending the draught. Tell Hermione that it eased her discomfort and that she seemed to sleep well last night. I’m very grateful to you both. Thought you’d enjoy something sweet to remind you of happier times.

Draco

The Healer returned the following morning. “It will be hours now, Mr Malfoy. Your Mother is comfortable, but her magical core is all but extinguished. You’ll find that her breathing will simply slow until it ceases altogether.”

Draco nodded his understanding and the Healer left. He reached out for Narcissa’s hand. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll be okay, you don’t have to hang on anymore” he lied.

The day dragged endlessly on. His Mother would go long periods where her exhaled breath would finish, and no further inhalation happened. Draco would tense, thinking this was the end, only to hear her gasp another agonizing breath and begin the cycle again. He looked around the empty room. This was the last of the Malfoys. His beautiful mother, dying in a room with a son who’d disgraced her, nobody else here to notice, or mourn, or bide. Everyone who had been anyone to them was gone, either dead, or imprisoned, or had fled the country after the war. What a stupid fucking waste, Draco thought.

His mind idly recalled the loving faces around Harry’s kitchen island. The boy who’d had nobody, no parents, no proper upbringing, had built a strong family who loved and supported him. If Harry were sitting by a deathbed, he’d have people there to with him, to make him eat and sleep and shower. Draco may not have done things right, but at least Harry had people. Draco had three mad house elves who he’d need to free once this was over.

Draco became aware of a growing coolness in the hand he held, and it became obvious that his Mother wasn’t breathing any longer. It was over. Narcissa Black-Malfoy had died. Draco knew he needed to call the Healer, arrange the interment ceremony. It would wait though. Right now, Draco sat beside his Mother’s bedside and gazed at the face who had loved him, taught him, disciplined him. The lines of pain that had become constant during the time he’d been home had stilled. Her suffering had ended. There was no end in sight for Draco’s.

Of course it would be raining on the day that they laid his Mother to rest in the Malfoy tomb. Standing in the gardens, his dress robes uncomfortable and awkward feeling, Draco laid the white orchids in his mother’s hands. The officiant wrapped the shroud around her body, and floated her into the tomb. As the Latin incantations flowed over him like water, Draco felt desolate. There was no age limit on feeling like an orphan, he realized. He had no family now. Standing straight, the years of training making his posture rote behaviour, Draco’s face reflected nothing. He’d get through this, he told himself. Then he’d pack some shit up, free the elves, maybe set fire to the fucking Manor, and then be back in Canada in a day. 

Turning away from the crypt, he noticed a cluster of people standing behind him. Pansy, Blaise, Greg, Granger and Weasley, Longbottom and Abbot, Lovegood and her nutty father. And Harry, standing resplendent in a set of black dress robes, his hair uncharacteristically sedate. His resolve faltered a little at the look in Harry’s eyes, but he bit his bottom lip and regained control.

His Mother’s banker and lawyer were there as well. Draco thanked them for coming, made an appointment to sort out her estate the following morning, and then moved on to Harry and his friends. “Thank you all for coming” he said quietly. “It means a great deal”

“I’m sorry, Draco” Harry whispered, squeezing his hand and putting a hand on his shoulder. Draco felt that endless cavern of misery that he’d somehow awoken in Harry’s bedroom stir. With a frantic shake of his head, he pulled his hand away. If he allowed himself to feel anything right now, he’d fall apart and never be able to put himself together again. He needed to complete this like a Malfoy. For his Mother. For his Father, the bastard.

“Draco, darling” Pansy kissed his cheek. “Do you have any responsibilities today?”

“I’m sure that the elves have prepared food for you all” he said. 

“Yes fine, we’ll eat their food. Then what?”

“Nothing, I suppose. I meet with the lawyer and Mother’s Gringott’s representative tomorrow.”

“Okay, we’re taking you back to Grimmauld, then. It’s not Tuesday, but if there was ever a reason for Liquor Potluck, it’s this”

“I’m not sure”

“Draco, trust me, after my Gran died, I thought I should be alone. It was awful. Harry came and brought me back to his place, and it helped” Longbottom’s face was incredibly kind.

“Alright”

It was a much more sombre affair than the previous Liquor Potluck. Draco sat on a stool, eyes glazed, as people whirled past. Cups were placed into his hand, but he mostly ignored them. A plate of food was laid in front of him, but Draco didn’t notice it until it had gone cold. Through it all, Harry sat on a stool beside him, his shoulder close to Draco’s. He didn’t say anything all night, just sat with him, a warm reassuring presence. Draco knew that this was better than having sat alone on the Manor all night. He didn’t feel okay, not by a long shot, but it helped.

Gradually, people drifted off to bed, and Draco blinked in surprise to see that it was just him and Harry left in the kitchen. “I should go” he said

“Or-“

“It’s late”

“Draco, did I ever tell you about the night that Sirius died?”

“Just the details, the Department of Mysteries”

“Right, that was how it happened. Afterwards, I pitched an enormous fit in Dumbledore’s office, broke stuff, yelled at him. We talked, and then, I just…went to bed. I went back to my dorm, and everyone else was asleep. Ron, Hermione and Neville were in the infirmary, Dean and Seamus had already gone to sleep. I was on my own.” Harry looked at Draco for a moment, his dazzling eyes soft and full of compassion “It was the loneliest night I’ve ever spent in my life. And I’ve known lots of those nights before and after. But it was the worst. I cast a silencing charm, and cried, and just lay there, empty. Nobody should sleep alone on a night where they lose someone”

“I’ll be fine, though-“

“Sure Draco, of course you will. But you don’t have to be alone tonight. Come upstairs, Merlin knows it’s already late. Catch a few hours of sleep next to someone who once meant something to you”

“Harry, you-“

“No, Draco, not tonight. We don’t need to talk. Just come to bed”

So Draco did. He folded his robes, and crawled into the bed in his boxers and a t-shirt. Harry was already under the covers. His arms wrapped around Draco and he stroked his hair. “Just sleep, Draco”

The last thing he thought before he fell into an uneasy, lonely sleep is, this could have been mine.

In the morning, he felt Harry’s erection against his hip, and the stupid, brainless part of him wanted to grind into it. But he forfeited that right long ago, so he drew away. Harry’s hand outstretched for a moment, but then he sighed, and remained asleep. Draco watched for a second, his heart so full of love and regret that he could have thrown up. He didn’t though. Instead, he put his robes back on, and summoned a parchment and quill.

Harry

The lawyer and Gringott’s guy will be at the Manor early. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for last night. Truly.

Draco

After that, everything was simple, if not easy. He sat through the reading of the will. Unsurprisingly, he was wealthy. He asked the lawyer to put the Manor up for sale. He packed some photographs, arranged to have some artifacts stored in the vaults at Gringotts, and took a final walk through the manor. The elves wailed when he tried to free them, so he sent them to Pansy. Let her figure out what to do with them. Granger could find them somewhere; Draco knew she had a thing about elves back at Hogwarts. 

He took a final skate around the rink, walked through the gardens one last time, and knew. It was time.

As he shrank his trunk and his hockey bag, he had one last thing to do. He wrote:

Harry,

As you might know, I’ve sorted everything out with my Mother’s estate, and it seems like it’s time to go back to Toronto. I won’t trouble you with any further apologies. I hope you believe that I will regret what I’ve done until I take my last breath. I’m glad to have come home though, to have seen you, to see that you have surrounded yourself with people who care about you. Be well, Harry. Find someone who sees in you what I do, make a life with them. Grab your happiness and never look back. I wish you the very best. If ever you need anything, please let me know.

He faltered as he went to sign off, until, with a shrug, he wrote:

Love,  
Draco

At the international floo, he entertained a fantasy of Harry running in before he left, making a desperate declaration, and begging Draco to stay. It didn’t happen, and by nightfall, he was in a hotel on King Street, watching the traffic zoom by.


	4. My Fucking Favourite

It wasn’t so bad, being back. He texted his coach, telling him that he was around. He picked up a few shifts coaching hockey camps. At the end of the day, his feet ached, and he sat on the balcony of the condo he'd bought, watching the airplanes land on the island and thinking about the way the shadows fell in his mother’s room. He didn’t have any pictures of himself and Harry, but he watched memories in the Pensieve. Some days, he watched an arrogant little shit (himself) and a brazen little menace (Harry) taunt each other from brooms. Other days, he relived the way that Harry whimpered as he sucked his cock, gazing down at him with wide eyes. 

His team was thrilled to have him back, and before he knew it, the season had started again, and he was practicing five days a week. He returned to the condo each night, exhausted, barely managing to eat something before collapsing into bed.

The first game arrived, and Draco battled nerves all afternoon. Three hours before the game, after emerging from the toilet where he'd lost his lunch, wiping his mouth and casting a subtle freshening charm on his mouth, he found himself in the locker room. It was way too early, but having nowhere else to be, he flopped down onto the bench, and closed his eyes. He dreamt of Harry, and awakened when the equipment manager came in to ready the locker room. 

It was game time. Nerves zipped through his body, and Draco bounced on his toes, feeling the way his blades bit into the ice. He warmed up, pleased that a sizeable crowd had come to see the home opener. Warm, focused, ready to go, he joined the pre-game huddle. The first line went on, and Draco settled on the bench, hydrating and awaiting a line change. It came quickly, and Draco skated to the face off line, tapping his stick against the gate three times for luck on the way.

The team they were playing was aggressive, skilled. Draco found himself checked into the boards, and saw a familiar flash of green through the plexiglass. It reminded him of something, but he shoved the thought to the back of his mind, and focused on trying to draw the opposing right winger into a hooking penalty. Instead, the player mouthed off at him, and his temper gave way. Gloves flew onto the ice, and before he really knew what was happening, he was shoving the guy, punching him. The guy’s helmet went askew, and Draco punched him in the cheekbone. The referee was there before he was able to inflict much damage, and Draco found himself in the penalty box. He scanned the crowd again, and could swear he saw a familiar mop of unruly black hair. Before he could look further, his penalty had ended, and he was back on the ice.

Determined to better the opposing team for having baited him into a penalty, Draco was an avenging angel on the ice. He’d never skated so fast, and it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime games, where he found himself in the right spot more often than not, and by the time the third period drew to a close, he’d scored himself a hat trick.

Despite his efforts, they lost the game, and Draco felt discouraged as he skated off the ice. He was bathed in sweat, and looked forward to a beer, a shower and a few hours of mindlessly watching the traffic from his balcony. His head was down as he walked the corridor back to the locker room.

“Good game” the voice startled Draco and he looked up to see Harry standing in front of him.

“Harry” his voice was croaky. “You’re here” His mind stupidly grappled with seeing someone from his other life here in his new one.

“Yeah. Can I see you? After you’ve changed?”

“Of course. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll meet you back in the stands.

Draco flew through the quickest shower of his life, a stupid little ribbon of hope furling through his stomach. He tried to temper it, but it was stubborn. However leaving the locker room carrying his hockey bag, he suddenly feared that he’d imagined seeing Harry at all, that he’d find nobody waiting for him in the stands.

But there he was, his wild hair surrounding that beloved face, a tiny hopeful smile on his lips. Draco hadn’t bothered to dry his hair and a line of cold water dripped off the ends and down his back. He shivered a little and simply stood there. This was Harry’s mission, and Draco could only stand stupidly, waiting to see what happened next.

“Can…can we go somewhere?” Harry was biting his bottom lip, and he looked so out of place here in Draco’s other world and so sodding young, Draco wanted to take him in his arms.

Instead, he gave Harry a searching look, and said “We can go get a beer, or we can go to my place. You choose” He knew he was giving Harry nothing, but the rules had all changed, and Draco didn’t know how to do this. He’d been so good. He’d been so adult, and he’d let Harry do what he needed to do, and he’d sucked up the fact that he’d made a terrible mistake, and things had been so hard. He wasn’t a saint, and he couldn’t give Harry another inch.

“Yours” Draco nodded, shouldered his hockey bag and started walking out of the arena. As they were leaving, he saw a few of his teammates.

“Dray, we were waiting for you. Beer?”

“Not tonight, guys. Got company”

They groaned good-naturedly, and sent him a suggestive leer as they stared interestedly at Harry. Draco didn’t bother to introduce them. Not until he knew why Harry was here.

“Good game, Malfoy” The goalie yelled after him as he and Harry left. Draco raised an arm in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn around.

They found a subtle spot behind the rink to apparate and before long they were in Draco’s condo. He threw his hockey bag in the closet; he’d deal with that later. “Beer?” he asked

Harry nodded, walking to the window and watching the traffic, and beyond it, the lake. Draco handed him a bottle, uncapping one for himself. Then he waited. Whatever Harry was here to say, Draco was going to give him a chance to say it.

“Maybe this was a mistake” Harry muttered. He looked wretched, and Draco felt a burst of sympathy.

“You’re okay” he said mildly. “You’ve come a long way. Do you have something more you need to say to me?” It was killing him to be this calm and detached. He took another long swallow from the bottle.

“Draco” Draco nodded encouragingly. He wasn’t completely heartless, and this was clearly killing Harry. It was then that Draco realized that this wasn’t some sort of last-ditch reconciliation. His heart sank and sound roared in his ears. If it wouldn’t have made him look like an utter fool, he would have fallen to the floor with his hands over his head, but, he owed it to Harry to at least hear him say the words.

“I…Merlin, this is hard. I’ve missed you”

Draco nodded, waiting for the ‘but’ that would inevitably follow.

Harry laughed a little, a small sound. “Wow, you’re not giving me an inch here, are you? Okay, I suppose that’s fair.” He gathered a long breath, and looked into Draco’s eyes. “I’ve missed you, Draco. You fucked up, you made a judgement call, and it was a bad one, and it hurt me, and it hurt you.” Draco nodded again, feeling his face may crack with the pain.

“But here we are, four years later, and I’m still a mess, and you’re…well, you seem to be doing just fine, actually, which kind of hurts a bit, but I had to take my shot, Draco. I know you have this life here, but I need my shot”

Draco was utterly confused now, but nods again. That seemed to galvanize something in Harry, because he moved closer until their faces were nearly touching.

And then he kissed Draco. This time the kiss wasn’t a tentative press of lips. Harry’s tongue was audaciously thrusting into his mouth, and he sucked on Draco’s bottom lip and then he was crushed against Draco’s body, his erection hard against Draco’s thigh. They kissed and kissed, and Draco’s lips were hurting and chapped, but he didn’t give a fuck, because it was as though someone has told him that he was allowed to have air again. It was delicious. Harry pulled away to catch his breath.

“What” said Draco. Realizing that he hadn’t really communicated his point, he tried again. “What just happened?” This was closer, although still not really salient.

“I just snogged you” Harry was grinning at him as if he were a particularly stupid child.

“Yes. Yes. Why?” Yes, this was better.

“Because, you stupid prat, you’re still my fucking favourite.”

Draco felt his lips curving into a hopeful smile. “You’re not here to just shag me and then leave, are you?”

“Merlin, I hope not. Draco, come back to me. Be with me. I don’t even care if we stay here, in your poncy Muggle condo. I just don’t want to waste another fucking second.”

“Yes. Yes. I want that. I want you” Draco knew he was babbling, but he was so fucking relieved. He’d been given his life back.

“Also?” Harry’s smile was diabolical. “Hockey Draco is fucking hot”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, tried in vain to wrap his legs around him too, but learned that it was difficult to do so while standing up. They tumbled to the ground, and Draco decided that it was a good a place as any, so he methodically stripped Harry bare and kissed every inch of his body. Twice. 

Some time later, when they’d recovered from their reacquaintance and were pleasantly enjoying the afterglow, Draco grabbed some blankets and led Harry out to the patio. They sat on a deck chair, Harry nestled in Draco’s lap while he petted his hair.

“Now what?” he asked Harry, placing a kiss in his hair.

“Does it matter? Do you want to finish the season?”

“Kind of. I love hockey. But I love you more”

“So, we stay here until your season is over, and spend off-season in England.”

“What about your people? Your family?”

“Idiot. You’re my person. You’re my family. Besides, we’re wizards. It’s not like we can’t get Portkeys anytime we want.”

“So that’s it? We’ll just be together from now on?”

“Do you have any objections?”

Draco didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thanks so much for reading this fic. I feel so fond of this Draco, and it was just the tiniest bit of catharsis, having lost my mum last year. I appreciate those who kudo'd and if you liked it at all, I sure would love a comment.
> 
> Peach.


End file.
